


Autumn Wanderer

by Darkfyyre



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Developing Relationship, Disabled Character, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Slow Build, Validation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:56:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkfyyre/pseuds/Darkfyyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kunimi Akira had never considered how things would be after Aoba Johsai's third year captain, Oikawa Tooru, graduated. His legacy faded, and that one golden year where Akira had felt real and valid disappeared with him. <i>"You're just lazy."</i> It was all anyone ever told him now, but then again, it was hardly any different from Kitagawa Daichi. The seasons shifted, years drifted, and as autumn approached, he began to wonder what his now-meager life mattered. And then, as Akira resigned himself to a winter he'd never return from, there he was - that familiar head of hair, those sharp eyes, and a smile that never failed to shine - former Aoba Johsai captain, Oikawa Tooru. The season takes a very different quality of light to it, as once again Oikawa reminds him what his inner strength looks like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> _Autumn Wanderer_ is a story about healing, validation, and moving forward; growing. My brother and I, in late October of 2015, designed to make a story with a seasonal theme, as we'd done once before, with Summer. When picking characters, we gravitated towards the ones we connected with most - Oikawa Tooru is near and dear to me, while Kunimi Akira speaks volumes to him. In just two days, we sat back from our creation speechless and in awe. This story is about so much more than the media these characters came from, and we both strongly hope the messages we tried to convey can speak to you - our readers - too. The story is roughly 40k words long, so it'd be awesome if you stayed to read all of it! I hope you find as much comfort in it as we both have. Please enjoy.
> 
> The story is best read accompanied by the playlist we constructed for _Autumn Wanderer,_ and can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLP_xlSQ1bOVJlPzw36q0k6FsTlG4WB2GQ). We used it to keep the story consistent with the tone we aimed to achieve, but it's also wonderful playlist on its own, perfect to relax to.
> 
> I advise listening to Daughter's "Winter" while reading the prologue, however. It's how I wrote it and it captures the tone perfectly. However you decide to read the story, however, is up to you. Either way, I hope it works for you and you enjoy the content.

_Dedicated to my brother, Tyler_

_Special thanks to you, whom without I could not have made this incredible story come to life and see its completion. I hope this story continues to bring you comfort and even a small bit of happiness, as it has for me. Thank you._

///|||\\\\\

It was the calm before the storm. Tooru collected his focus, looked past the net. Single out the target, focus. A deep breath, focus. Muscles tense, focus. There's the lunge. Strike the ball. Watch its path. Then-

Pain. The court rushed up to meet him suddenly, sound reared up in his ears and became deafening, and his own scream was lost in it. There were faces all around him. There were words, not heard. Hands pulling at his body, not felt. A name called out, unanswered. Everything was falling to pieces before Tooru even realized what had happened.

Bright lights made streaming imprints across his swimming vision. The inside of an ambulance felt cramped. Tooru's body was numb, but his mind was worse. There he saw a court, all the players in place, the net white and tall, but it was growing further and further away, until he could no longer distinguish its features. No more squeaking sneakers, no more echoing as a spike hits the floor, no teammates calling words of encouragement, no team cheers from the stands, and no blood rushing through his ears as he soared skyward, prepared to set the game into motion.

_Cripple._ Tooru lay in the hospital bed awaiting the surgery that would do nothing to save his future from crumbling into oblivion. A name, finally answered, stood beside him. Hands clasped tightly, he spoke words that Tooru could hear but found he could not understand. What was being said? He didn't know. All he could hear was a single word, echoing endlessly in his head.

Now it was summer, and the sun poured in through his bedroom window like it had done so many times throughout his childhood. Tooru wanted to close the blinds. But he couldn't. He wanted to call for company. But he couldn't. He wanted to play volleyball, but he never would, never again. He stared at the crutches leaned up against the bed, and for the hundredth time that day, tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down his face without a sound.

Days passed, weeks even, but Tooru could not keep track no matter how hard he tried. He rarely left bed, unless he absolutely had to. He didn't remember the last time he'd bathed, brushed his teeth, or combed his hair. His back was full of bedsores. The tears kept coming. The pain never left. And always, he thought of the dream that would never be a reality. Days passed. Weeks passed. Tooru simply lay in bed, and tried not to think about it.

As summer began to fade out, Tooru thought to leave home for the first time in over a month. It was a sudden thought, striking fiercely and without warning. He struggled through the motions of self-care. First it was making it to the bathroom. Then it was undressing. And so on from there. It took him nearly three hours, but at last, he was clean and ready to leave the house.

The world was not as he remembered it. Every motion was a trial. Every movement was a test. The ache in his body was nothing compared to that of his heart. It was a beautiful day. Tooru found he could not enjoy it. Exhausted and frustrated, he lay down on a bench and did not move. The sky changed above him. The sun became low in the sky. Tooru watched the stars emerge, one by one. Street lights turned on. His phone rang and rang in his pocket. _Mother is worried,_ he thought idly. It meant nothing to him. _It doesn't matter._

He didn't know when he'd fallen asleep, but at some point he started dreaming. It was not a pleasant dream. He awoke, early before the sun had risen, and lay there bathed in cold sweat. _This is all too much. I can't keep this up. This isn't living._ He rose weakly, stiff and painful, and his head spun from dehydration and hunger. Unsteadily, he groped for his crutches. Deep breaths, focus. Lunge forward, focus. Find balance, focus. He began to hobble into the early morning. He had only one thing on his mind. _Stop the pain. Stop the suffering. No more. No more. No more._ All the while, he was certain, _it doesn't matter._

His mother's home loomed before him. Its nostalgia no longer held relevance to him. _Times long past. It doesn't matter._ He clumsily made it through the door, ignoring the pain that plagued his entire body. The house was dark and quiet, but Tooru had no trouble finding the medicine cabinet. Faces surfaced across his memory. Names echoed in his head. Tooru uncapped bottles at random. _They will understand._ He gently closed the door so as not to wake his mother. He looked back through the darkness to where he could just barely see her door handle. Then he turned away. _It doesn't matter._

He took the train out to the countryside. The region boasted beautiful forests for hiking in. Locals and tourists came there all the time. But the sun was only just rising, and Tooru saw no one as he limped his way down the trail head. He felt numb. He was numb. Pills jostled in his pocket. Crutches creaked. Head hollow. He no longer had the energy to even think, _it doesn't matter._

It would have been wrong to say that he got lost. He'd been lost from the start. But the trail disappeared from under foot, and the woods became thicker, and while the sun was climbing higher, the canopy above made the mottled shadows more confusing than the darkness from before. At last he couldn't take it. He threw down the crutches, took three steps, and fell against a log. His fingers brushed something cold and rectangular. He looked up.

There sat a camera. Not a disposable Kodak camera. A professional, film camera, complete with a neck strap and a large case resting just a few inches to the left of it. Tooru's mind swam with confusion. _Am I hallucinating?_ He pulled himself into a sitting position behind the log and picked up the camera. All around him, birds were beginning to sing. The trees swayed in the breeze. Insects scuttled under leaves. And here, in the middle of it all, sat a man-made object, as though it had parachuted in gently from the sky.

Tooru turned it over and over in his hands. His mind filled with questions. _How had it gotten here? Who owned it? How do I turn it on?_ He was at first hesitant to push the buttons or adjust the instrument in any way, but a number of factors washed his inhibitions away, and he found himself prodding and fiddling with the thing, completely absorbed in the mystery. He forgot the pain. He forgot the plan. He forgot everything. There was only this camera in the middle of the forest, and him by the log, mystified.

Suddenly, he heard a voice. Alarmed by the sound, his fingers fumbled and he nearly dropped the camera, but he managed to clutch it to his chest just as a figure came into view on the other side of the log. It was a man, who looked to be middle-aged or older. He smiled when Tooru turned to face him. Tooru followed him with his eyes as the man took a seat on the log, puffing out a labored breath, and for a moment, nothing was said.

At last, the man began to speak. "You don't look so good, son." He picked up the case, peered inside, then looked back to Tooru. "You seen my camera anywhere?"

Sheepishly, Tooru uncurled his fingers from the thing and brought it away from his chest. He moved to hand it back, but the man shook his head. Tooru tried again, but the other insisted.

"It looks to me like maybe you need it more than I do. Is that true?" He folded his hands in his lap, and gave him an encouraging look. He had a kind face, Tooru thought. He shifted his grip on the camera uneasily, trying to form words.

When he spoke, it was a hoarse whisper. "I... thought I didn't want to live anymore." He rolled his head, trying to stay awake. "I got hurt. I don't know what to do with my life anymore." Upon saying this, he started to feel the pain in his body once more, and his face screwed up. He let his hands - and the camera - fall to his lap. Tilting his head back, the pale blue sky above looked beautiful crisscrossed by branches and leaves.

The stranger regarded him, then looked up as well. "See something you like?" He inquired casually. Tooru gave him one slow blink.

"I was kind of thinking it'd be nice to frame that," he pointed a swaying finger upward. "But it's just a moment, I guess. It doesn't matter." _It doesn't matter. Why should it?_

He felt the log shift, and the man was crouching beside him now, picking the camera up carefully and placing it back into Tooru's hands. "You know, son, no one but you will ever see this moment, as it is, right now. And that's pretty special. But there is a very simple way to share it with the world. And that's pretty special, too."

Tooru let his eyes drift back down to the camera, almost uncomprehendingly. But even with the fog in his mind, he was starting to get the idea. _Pictures._ Hadn't he seen a million pictures in his lifetime? And taken a thousand himself? Pictures of friends, pictures of his nephew, of sunsets and beautiful moments too good to let pass. Unsteadily, he brought the camera up to his face, and squinted down the sight. His hands were shaking. But it didn't matter. This was a moment in his life, and he was going to capture it.

_Click!_


	2. I Found || Raintears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my greatest struggles as a writer is "how do I open into this story? how does it start?" This story was no different. I write stories like I'm making a patchwork quilt - first I make the patches, then I go back and slowly sow them together. Luckily for me, I didn't need to worry about how I'd begin _Autumn Wanderer._ My brother unwittingly handled that for me.
> 
> We both used to be quite prolific writers, writing all the time and every day. But he stopped writing, for a period of three years... until _Autumn Wanderer_ was born. He sent me several thousand words of writing about Kunimi Akira, something to illustrate his descent both literal and metaphorical. It was the perfect entry into the story; better than anything I could have come up with.
> 
> So, when you start reading this chapter, what you're reading is his contribution, his vital contribution. I can't thank him enough for it, and I'm also so proud of him for writing it after so long of him not writing at all. It further proves to me how special this story is, that it would move him to write again. I hope you can appreciate it too while you read. :) Please enjoy this first chapter into our lovingly crafted story!

“You’re just lazy,” the captain repeated, with barely restrained annoyance. Akira stared back at him, blankly at first. He let the volleyball drop from his hands. _Those words again…_ They were all he ever seemed to hear these days. Ever since the first captain of his high school volleyball club graduated, Kunimi Akira’s life had taken an unfortunate dip, which became more a spiral into disarray. Captain Oikawa had been the binds that kept Aoba Johsai at peak performance, and he had been capable of turning any player into a valuable member of the team, regardless of the circumstances. Including Akira.

Akira was not an energetic person. He tired easily and in any case found it difficult to focus on things which did not interest him enough to overcome his lack of motivation. Even volleyball, which was something he minorly enjoyed, had become difficult for him in his junior high years. An extremely dominating player had taken control of the team and the court in the worst way possible. He demanded near impossible plays from his so-called teammates and took out his frustrations with them during and after matches if they couldn’t keep up with his reckless tosses. By the end of his third year, Akira thought that although he still wanted to play, he wasn’t going to pour lots of time and effort into something which had become incredibly taxing in every awful way imaginable. Together with his friend, Kindaichi, he convinced the coach of Aoba Johsai to reject Kageyama Tobio, the “King of the Court” from playing for Seijoh.

In the first few weeks, he rarely attended practices. Every time he entered the gym, a feeling of leftover dread came over him, and if it was particularly bad, he left. Sooner or later, he knew, it would attract either the coach’s or the captain’s attention, but it hardly mattered. Maybe, if they kicked him out, he’d find the courage to say to himself, “I don’t want to play anymore”. That was certainly a lie - playing with Kindaichi had been fun, and if he concentrated, he could just remember a time when playing volleyball had been enjoyable. But that was then, and this was now. Surely, now was different. He just needed a reason to let go.

Instead, Captain Oikawa sought him out, and found him asleep in the club activity room. Akira slept a lot more than he’d like to admit, but sleep was an escape and of course a way to recharge energy; what little of it he could muster. When he was awoken, the captain spoke softly. He didn’t yell. Wasn’t angry. Made no accusations. Although he didn’t understand why, Akira told him, “I’ll try harder.” Oikawa had said, “That’s the spirit,” and smiled.

It only lasted one year, but it was a good one. Captain Oikawa made each player feel like their talents were used to their fullest potential, and that in every game they played, their contribution was crucial to winning. Even Akira. He was not made to feel like he was slow, or without conviction. The captain made what he thought were weaknesses strengths. _Your slow pace conserves energy. While the rest of the players tire, you remain energized, ready to go on into the third set, as long as it takes. You are like the wolf, you may not be the fastest but no matter the miles, you’ll always keep pace, until at last you overtake and feed upon the bounty of your patience._ For one fulfilling year, Akira felt as though he was a pivotal player through the wins and the losses, and all could agree it was through their captain’s leadership and guidance that each were able to do so.

Skip ahead three years. Kunimi Akira had already started to lose steam after the captain graduated and the team gradually forgot what they once had; slowly, his glow faded from the lives of those who knew him, replaced by those who had never met him. Now, Akira was attempting to go to university, and out of habit or on a whim, had signed up for the volleyball team. It was not going well. He spent most of his time benched, the values Captain Oikawa had put in him completely disregarded by his team, his new captain and his coach. His peers hardly bothered to conceal their disdain for him. Oftentimes, he merely slept it off, but sometimes he would hear them talking about him before sleeping or after waking, when they thought he could not notice. Once, he overheard his coach and the captain having a discussion, somewhat heated on the captain’s end.

“-wasted potential, and I would rather have someone half as good as me in his place than have his waste of space. We could have some _real_ talent in his place,” the captain growled the word “real”, and the spite was clear in his voice.

“I see what you’re saying. He’s only a first year, perhaps-” the coach began, but the captain cut him off.

“No, no; there are _no_ excuses for this behavior! He’s lazy, he has no drive; I don’t know if he even wants to be here or if maybe this is some kind of joke to him. I won’t stand for this; not on my team.” He let out a long, agitated breath. Then the coach spoke again, slowly at first.

“Give him another month perhaps, or maybe a little less. I do agree with you on that last part. I wonder why he would sign up for something he has so little interest in…? That settles it, then. We’ll give him about a month. If his performance doesn’t improve, we’ll have to drop him. Does that suit you?” 

The captain allowed himself a triumphant smile. 

“Yes, I think that works just fine…”

Back to the present…

It had been merely two and half weeks since he’d overheard that conversation. For once, Akira had found the energy to halfheartedly practice spiking with the wall, but for some reason this had only seemed to annoy the captain. Halfway through the ensuing rant, Akira had zoned out, only serving to further anger the captain. Now, they looked at one another, as though waiting to see who would break first. To the captain’s surprise, Akira spoke.

“I see. Okay. I quit,” he looked him in the eye, speaking evenly. The captain could not restrain a wide grin, and by the looks of it, hadn’t even tried. Akira kicked him the ball, and although he had felt as though he’d wanted it to hit him hard, he could only manage a gentle bump up, which the captain caught easily. Feeling heavy and tired, he meandered away from him, wondering where to go and what to do.

He’d done it. Finally said to himself that it was over, and wasn’t he glad? But he wasn’t. He stood at the doorway to the gym and the hall and looked back. The nets, the courts, the smells and sounds, they were identical to that first day of high school, but they were small compared to the presence that only that one year had contained. And that was then. This was now.

It all went downhill from that point. Akira realized he’d still have to be in school with his former “teammates” and couldn’t bear this thought, so he quit university. For about a year, he struggled to stay connected with his childhood friend, Kindaichi Yuutarou, but something terrible was stealing over him, and threatened to cascade over and wash everything away. After a while, he couldn’t even pick up the phone when Kindaichi called. He watched it until it stopped ringing and listened to the message that was left; then he deleted it. And, one day, the inevitable happened.

The last message he received from Kindaichi was one he couldn’t force himself to delete. It would probably be the last time he’d hear his voice. Although he kept trying to destroy and remove everything from that time, somehow there were two things that he could not bring himself to do. They were:

Delete Kindaichi’s voicemail. To rid himself of that felt like telling himself that Kindaichi didn’t, and never had, mattered. It was a lie he couldn’t swallow, and so he kept it. And…

He’d sold every vestige of volleyball he’d ever owned, and threw out all that couldn’t be sold. Everything, that is, except his uniform from Aoba Johsai. He’d wanted to, had even almost managed it, but a part of him said that to destroy that was a death sentence for himself, akin to killing everything he’d ever built in that year, all the friendships and the feelings of belonging and it was like breaking some kind of promise which had never been made, “Please don’t forget this, please don’t forget us and all we had.”

As for all the rest…

He burned all of his bridges so that he was now a lost island, or perhaps an unmoored boat, in an ocean which was quickly becoming dark. Akira resorted to his old standby, and slept in. And slept early. And slept often. He could not hold a job for long and began to see little point in trying. Or in anything. Sometimes, if he was in a pinch for money, he painted on things - pieces of cardboard, mostly - and sold them in parks or other public spaces. If he was painting and someone asked for a commission, he’d oblige so long as they were willing to pay a little extra for it.

Life existed only in moments, and moments flowed from one to the next and only if he was _really_ trying could he tell the difference at all. A year ago, he’d stopped trying. A year from now, he reflected, he may not have to. But, it was only a moment’s reflection. And then he moved on.

Now, it was early fall, and the chill easily penetrated Akira's thin shirt and worn out trousers. The brick path he sat on was sucking the heat out of his legs and thighs, and he shifted uncomfortably on the hard surface every so often to try and evenly distribute the loss. Body aching and skin covered in goosebumps, Akira focused on the cardboard canvas he'd pulled from his apartment dumpster a few days ago. It was relatively unbent and, thankfully, clean of stains, but most importantly it didn't cost him a thing. That was important when you hardly had anything.

People passed, some stopped to watch or tried to browse without coming too close, but for the most part he remained invisible to the locals and tourists alike that had come to visit the nearby shrine. _More strokes. More paint._ The wind blew, chilly against his face and biting through his clothes. _I need more green. Oh well._ Chatter blended into the background, meaningless to Akira. _This brush will be too worn out to use soon. Oh well._ A spinning movement, about eye level, caught his attention, and he glanced up.

There sat a young man in a wheelchair, a large camera held up to his face by bare hands. The shutter clicked a few times, then he lowered the camera to adjust the settings. For a moment, his head turned to face Akira's direction. Sharp brown eyes missed nothing. Face taut with concentration. Passion burning there in that one glance.

Akira couldn't believe his eyes, though he wasn't sure what he was more shocked by. Those rosy fingers lifted the camera up once more, and Oikawa squinted in attention before snapping another picture. Words were coming out of Akira's mouth before he even knew what he was doing.

"Would you like to buy a painting?" _Oh, I've done it now._

The wheelchair turned sharply, and Oikawa's warm chocolate eyes fixed Akira with a keen look of interest. He smiled, and casually rolled closer, making a show of letting his gaze travel over the assorted paintings laid out across the bricks. Suddenly he was bringing the camera up again, and Akira just barely had time to cover his face before he heard the click.

"Awww, camera shy are we? I'm sorry about that." Oikawa quickly put the camera down, removing the strap from his neck and placing the whole of it into a case. "Truly, I'm sorry. Can I buy something to make up for it?"

Though a little shaken up, he nodded mutely. Akira gathered some courage. "What's your name?" _Surely I'm imagining things._ He hadn't quite planned past this part.

"Oikawa," the familiar stranger answered simply, continuing to look over the artwork. Not so much a stranger anymore, unless one counted that fact that they'd not seen each other for several years.

 _I don't believe this._ But the truth remained in front of him, and it continued to note the cardboard pieces with interest.

"These are wonderful! I think I'll take this one." Oikawa gestured to a medium-sized painting drowned mostly in hues of blue. It was a rather plain painting of the sky.

"Are you sure? That one's kind of old and boring..." Akira felt his cheeks burning from embarrassment. But he was quickly realizing something else as Oikawa shook his head and flashed another bright smile. _Aren't you going to say something?_

"Maybe I'm a minimalist! But really, it's a beautiful painting, and I do love the sky." He started to dig into a bag slung across the back of his wheelchair. "How much?" He threw over his shoulder.

"Y61580," Akira told him flatly, trying to hide a small smile. Oikawa flipped around, eyes wide in disbelief. "I'm joking - that's 1200, please."

"Wow! Really had me going there. I don't think I'm that good of a haggler." He passed over the bills, and picked up the painting, holding it out in front of his face to look at it carefully. As he carefully placed it halfway into the backpack, Akira watched him while the wheels turned in his own head.

 _So much attention for the painting, completely ignoring me..._ Akira was reminded of what had been nagging him before. _He doesn't recognize me. I... I should say something. I should probably-_

"Hey, you cold?"

His thoughts were interrupted by Oikawa's voice again. Akira looked up, and saw the other regarding him with his usual careful scrutiny. Little escaped his notice... and yet, he still didn't seem to recognize Akira. He shook his head, remembered Oikawa had just asked him a question, and managed to nod vaguely in response.

To that, he felt something soft hit his shoulder. He looked down in surprise, and realized it was a jacket. Looking back up sharply, he saw Oikawa grinning from ear to ear in a not unkind way.

"I can't take this!" Akira objected. "This is yours..."

"Consider it payment, then, for the picture I took." Oikawa insisted, lifting the camera case, but Akira kept shaking his head.

"You already bought a painting..." _This is silly. You have to say something._ But he didn't, and Oikawa continued.

"Fine, then why don't you join me for a date in return?" His smile could have stood in for the sun.

 _Oh, no; you really gotta tell him now._ Still, he felt frozen. Instead, he thought about how he might be able to get a real warm meal. He couldn't really say no to that. "Sure. I'm starving. But I need to pack my things first..." He began to quickly gather his arrayed belongings, which he'd only just so carefully set up ten minutes before.

"If you don't mind, I'll move around and take a few more pictures while you're busy." Oikawa rocked back and forth, looking anxious to be moving, so Akira waved him off. He nodded in thanks, and spun away, one hand working the camera out of its case. Akira couldn't sit and watch though, so he set about carefully placing all of the cardboard canvases back into the beaten bag from which they'd come.

A little while later, after Akira had packed up the last of his belongings, Oikawa returned, and Akira knew he had to tell him now before it got out of hand. _Nothing to it. Just be subtle..._

"Your first name is Tooru, right?" Akira once again felt the words leave his mouth before he could stop himself. He sighed inwardly. _So much for subtle._

Oikawa's body went rigid, then slowly sagged. "Ohh, so you recognize me, huh?" He ducked his head in shame, but smiled nonetheless. "Guess I was in the news for a while... so I shouldn't be surprised..."

 _What? I don't even watch the news..._ "Hey, for a guy with sharp eyes, you're a little off your game today." _I shouldn't be teasing him, but... oh, it's too tempting._

The wheelchair turned and Akira could feel Oikawa's eyes putting their undivided attention on him. It had always been an unnerving gaze when directed at other people, but to be the focus of it was something else. He'd expected it to feel dangerous, but somehow it had a softer edge. Regardless, Akira didn't dare move. Then, the eyes widened.

"Kunimi?" Oikawa rolled back a pace, breaking the spell of the stare. Akira shifted awkwardly, wondering how he'd react now that they were set to leave. He started to chuckle and shake his head. "Am I getting old or something? Your hair's so long now!"

"Er, I just haven't really had time to cut it, honestly..." _Or I've just not thought to do it._ He touched it, twisting the strands between his fingers.

"No, it looks fine, actually. Though, doesn't it get in your face when you're painting?" Oikawa circled around him to look at the back.

"I just put it behind my ears, I guess." _But you're right; it does. I just don't care enough to do anything about it._

"Alright, if you say so. Well, I'm famished." Something seemed to register on his face. "Oh, my god; I just asked you on a date, didn't I? Well now I feel extra stupid for not recognizing you." He laughed at his own mistake, and Akira didn't feel too guilty about not saying something sooner.

"It's fine, really." Akira looked thoughtful for a moment. "You're still taking me, right?" He shifted the weight of the bag on his shoulders, nervous that the answer might be "no".

Oikawa rolled back out in front of him. "We had a deal, didn't we? And you still look cold, so let's get some hot food. You like curry?"


	3. Amsterdam || Summer Skin

Akira listened idly to Oikawa's chatter as they made their way back down the streets towards a destination unknown to him. Not that it mattered much, as long as there was hot food there. He glanced down at the other, still wondering. _How did you end up here? And like this? Why do you seem so... happy?_

"Okay; we turn into this parking lot here." Oikawa slowed, pointing to a small concrete lot in front of a small building with a bright neon sign out front saying 'OPEN' in flashing letters. There were no windows, apart from a rectangle in the door, so Akira couldn't get a good look inside until they got closer. There was a set of stairs and a ramp leading up to the door. Akira took the stairs, while Oikawa navigated the ramp.

Akira pushed open the door for Oikawa, who thanked him and rolled in easily, a wide smile on his face. Staying by the door a moment longer, Akira let his eyes travel around the dim space, the rich smells of smoke, curry, ginger, and other spices filling the warm air. Oikawa stopped by the counter and bar, beyond which was the small kitchen full of steam and lit by bright fluorescent lights.

"Makki! Mattsun! You won't believe who I ran into today!" Oikawa called out, banging a few times on the counter. "Oi, you got customers!"

_Makki... like, Hanamaki? Hanamaki and Matsukawa?_ His hand released the door and he let it swing closed, then walked forward uncertainly behind Oikawa. He set his bag down by one of the chairs in front of the counter, and looked into the area beyond. A side door in the kitchen opened, and Matsukawa's curly black head emerged. He grinned when he saw Oikawa, and strode out to greet him.

"Sorry; we were doing inventory before we placed orders for new supplies." Matsukawa wiped his hands off on a towel attached to his apron, then looked past Oikawa to stare at Akira. "Kunimi? That you?"

"At least someone remembers me," Akira couldn't resist muttering. _I don't know if that was really sad, or if I should be laughing at Oikawa._

Hanamaki joined Matsukawa then, wiping sweat from his brow with the edge of his apron. "Gee, I don't believe it! Kunimi; what's new?"

"I found him painting on cardboard up by the shrine not far from here," Oikawa told them cheerfully.

_Oh, did you have to tell them that?_

When the two gave him an incredulous look, he continued, "but don't worry; I rescued him."

"No kidding!" Matsukawa puffed air out of his cheeks. "Well, Kunimi; this one's on the house." He and Hanamaki winked in unison, and the two walked over to the sink to wash up while Oikawa pulled out two menus from a stack.

"Are they serious about that?" The nervousness in his voice did not go unnoticed by Oikawa.

"Absolutely. So, pick whatever you want, okay? Don't worry about it." He smiled encouragingly, and pushed the menu a little closer to where Akira's hands lay folded one over the other on the counter.

It was all a little too overwhelming though. Akira found himself reading and re-reading line after line as the meanings blurred into the questions swirling through his mind. He gave up after a short while, pushing the menu back and shaking his head gently. "I don't know what to pick. You choose something."

Looking at him for a moment, Oikawa nodded once. "Alright, that's fine. You much care for spicy food or nah?" He flipped open the menu to scan the selection there, waiting for Akira's answer.

"Something mild, thank you." Akira found himself watching how Oikawa thumbed through the pages. His fingers looked soft and unhurt. Unused. But he knew that wasn't true, as he recalled the click of the shutter. _It almost seems too tame for you. But what do I really know?_

Hanamaki returned, ready to take their orders. "Have you fine gentlemen made up your minds, then?" He did his best to imitate a silly posh accent, posing as though this were a fine establishment and not a hole-in-the-wall type restaurant. 

"The usual for me; thanks." Oikawa tossed the two menus back haphazardly on the stack, earning him a venomous look from Matsukawa further back in the kitchen. "As for our guest, how about something mild? Nice and hot though; the weather out there is starting to turn chilly."

"Not a problem, not a problem at all!" Hanamaki scribbled the orders down, while Matsukawa leaned over the bar to realign the menus. "Drinks then?"

"Just water, please." Akira heard himself say, as though he were running on autopilot. He could feel himself disassociating. He pulled the jacket tighter around his neck, still feeling cold.

"I'll take some Pepsi; thanks." Turning away from the bar, Oikawa brought his attention back to Akira, who was starting to seem a little distant. "Hey. Akira. Now we're here; let's catch up some." Akira raised his head slowly. "I bet you have a lot of questions, and of course, so do I."

_Is it really okay to ask?_ "I guess I never really expected to see you taking pictures in a place like that." Akira pulled his hands into his lap, feeling stupid. _What a passive way to ask such a simple question._ He resisted the urge to tuck up his legs, too. He didn't want to get yelled at.

"Well, neither did I, for that matter." He chuckled, shaking his head as though in disbelief. "But sometimes life brings you down unexpected paths. Or, maybe I should have known something like this could happen." Oikawa pushed away from the counter, and rolled up a pant leg to show off a knee brace, not unlike the one he'd worn throughout high school. He rolled it back down, and continued. "You keep going though, somehow. You find a way."

_I would sure love to know how._ Akira nodded, unsure of what to say in the face of something he felt to be so heavy. Yet, Oikawa was smiling, seemingly content enough despite everything he'd worked for falling through. _But surely you were crushed when it happened._ Akira didn't ask him that, though. 

The food arrived before Oikawa could ask him about himself, and Akira breathed a sigh of relief. _What a pathetic story I have to tell._ He looked down at the steaming plate set down before him by Matsukawa's long reach. As the smell wafted up, it felt as though a hole suddenly and violently tore into his stomach, and Akira remembered just how hungry he was. Developing tunnel vision for the food, he eagerly began to eat, not caring that it burned his mouth and his lips.

"Whoa, whoa; slow down there!" Oikawa touched his arm, bringing him back to his surroundings.

"It's warm and I haven't had anything to eat today," he blurted out, impatient to start eating again. Oikawa pulled back his hand, and Akira went on to finish the meal as quickly as possible.

The plate was removed, and another replaced it. This time, Akira stared in shock first at the plate, then at the grinning face of Hanamaki above it. "What? We made a lot in case you were hungry."

_That's too kind, but I can't cry here._ Wordlessly, he started on the second helping. His insides felt a little warmer, and the hole didn't hurt so much anymore. He became aware of Oikawa staring at him, and risked a sideways glance.

He was simply smiling at Akira. "Make sure to drink your water, too. Stay hydrated, right?" He lifted the can of soda to his mouth, and took a drink himself.

"Ah. Right." Feeling somewhat self-conscious, Akira pulled the cup of water closer, and sipped out of the straw. _Ah. Cold._ Screwing up his nose, he looked at the plate, determined there was still plenty left, and sucked down the rest of the water in one go.

Oikawa continued to watch, looking both amused and concerned. On the one hand, he was glad to see the other going at the meal with such enthusiasm, but on the other, many of the things he'd so far talked about were very worrying. The state of Akira's clothes, the fact that many of his paintings were on milk cartons and microwavable food boxes, and the way in which he fixated on basic needs like food and warmth were all little warning signs to Oikawa.

He watched Akira finish the last of his second plate. Matsukawa and Hanamaki came to the counter side-by-side and leaned there, looking smug and satisfied, though not in any kind of malicious way. Akira nodded to them in silent thanks, looking thoroughly embarrassed by his own actions. Having finished their meal, Oikawa turned to Hanamaki for the bill, and his attention left Akira for the moment.

_So I guess this is it. It was nice while it lasted._ Akira let go of his previous inhibitions and brought his legs up, then he tucked his hands under his arms. The chill was returning to him. A hand touched his shoulder, and he looked up to meet a warm brown gaze. Something in those eyes said, _I'm not through with you yet._

"Ready to get going?" Oikawa jerked a thumb back at the door behind them. "There's one more place I wanna take you." He moved back and away from the counter, turned 180 degrees, and moved towards the door.

Startled by his sudden movement, Akira scrambled from his chair and reached for the strap of his bag, cursing silently as he caught a corner of it on the chair leg. He turned as quickly as he could, thinking he'd need to hold the door, but the door was already open. Though Akira was unsure how Oikawa had done it, Oikawa was moving too fast away and down the ramp for Akira to continue pondering. Instead he tried to think about where they might be going. _Always full of surprises, I guess._ After Akira caught up, they traveled down the sidewalk for a while, when Oikawa stopped suddenly and wheeled over to a bench.

"Hey! Sit there for a moment; I have an idea." His eyes lit up with excitement, leaving Akira ever more curious.

"Uh... sure. What are you going to do?" Akira took a seat, and Oikawa went around behind him.

Oikawa ran his fingers through Akira's hair, causing him to jolt in surprise. "Oh; sorry. You said it gets in your face, right?" The motion felt good against Akira's scalp, despite the initial shock. "So I thought I'd braid it. What do you think?"

"Oh. Sure." _I don't even bother to tie it back._ Akira narrowed his eyes. Trying to push away the negative thoughts, he focused instead on how gently Oikawa pulled back and parted the strands of hair. He could barely feel the twist of each lock as Oikawa wove them together, before securing it all with a large clip pulled from a pocket Akira couldn't see. _Why do you even have those?_ Somehow, it made him smile.

"All done! You look great; I should do your hair all the time." Akira turned to face Oikawa's proud beaming eyes. "Oh, your bangs - I have something for that." He went back into the pack, withdrew several more clips, these ones smaller, and presented them to Akira. "Pick a few and I'll pin your hair back."

Akira sifted through the small assortment idly. "And you have these because...?" Most of them were cute plastic shapes in bright colors, though a few pastels stood out as well.

"My nephew likes putting them in my hair." He smiled and laughed. "He entered his first year of high school this year. He's still a silly kid, though." Akira picked out the pastel colored clips, and Oikawa put away the rest. Carefully, he affixed them to Akira's head, then leaned back.

"Wow. I can actually see." Akira patted the hair lightly to feel it out, touching the braid and feeling the bumps with interest. "Thank you." _So when does it end?_ The thought continued to pervade his mind.

"You're very welcome." Those brown eyes smiled back at Akira, and they still seemed to be saying, _not yet_. "We got one more stop, if you're willing."

Rising from the bench to rejoin Oikawa by his side, Akira gave this some thought. _I still want to be here._ "No more surprises. Where are we going now?"

"You're still cold; I can tell. And it's only going to get colder when winter arrives. Let's get inside and we'll talk." He shot forward without waiting for a response, and Akira sighed. He wouldn't give up his secrets so easily, it seemed. Still, there was no harm in it. Akira chased after him, braid thumping against the back of his neck.

They didn't go too far. Oikawa rolled up to the door of a small supermarket, and Akira held it open for him. Several shelves and a whole table of winter wear had been set up close to the entrance and in sight of the window. Soft looking hats, long scarves, and colorful gloves sat in rows before them. Just as Akira was becoming envious, he felt a light touch on his wrist.

"Pick what you like. I'll buy it for you - so don't be thinking about the price, okay?" He looked at him sternly, the touch becoming a light but firm hold. Akira looked past Oikawa to the large collection, and shivered, half because of the cold and half because of the growing realization that this was not something ending, but something beginning. 

"You're sure?" _You know he is. Has he ever been uncertain about anything?_ Oikawa clasped his hand then and smiled.

"Of course."

Akira found a fluffy green and white striped scarf and a beige jacket, and while trying to sneak a peek at the price of dark green fleece hat, Oikawa snatched it from his hands and dumped it into the basket he'd set on his lap. Finally, he got around to the gloves, but gave pause when he thought about his painting. He turned to Oikawa, who seemed aware of the problem without Akira even bringing it up.

"I won't be able to grip the brush," he admitted, wondering if it'd be enough of a reason to stop Oikawa from spending more money on him.

"That's true, I guess. You really won't be able to feel it if you get frostbite though." He moved past Akira to where the mittens were. Akira was puzzled, but let Oikawa come back with a pair anyway. "Here. Try these." He handed them to Akira.

What appeared to be a seam at about the knuckles turned out to be just that - the tip of the mittens were removable, and folded back to be held in place by a little button. _That's actually a really good idea._ He slipped one on, and pinned back the tip experimentally. _This will work._ Oikawa made sure that Akira had put everything on before they'd left the store.

"So how does that feel?" The two stopped by the road, Oikawa turning to face him.

_Warm. The most important feeling._ He wasn't hungry, and felt less alone somehow. And before he could think _but this is ending soon_ , Oikawa was speaking again.

"Let me give you my number, okay? I want to keep in touch." He held his own cell phone in one hand, head tilted up expectantly. "And don't forget you can always visit Hanamaki and Matsukawa. I'm sure they'd love to have you again."

These were moments, passing. But Oikawa looked at him with the promise that they would be moments, returning. Akira was glad for the thick coat that hid his trembling frame. He produced his own phone from his pants pocket, a cheap one he used only to keep in touch with those who commissioned him for a piece. Those people were moments, passing. But Oikawa was here to stay.

_His fingers are still warm_ , was all Akira could think when Oikawa gently pulled the phone from his grasp. Deftly, he entered the digits first from one, then to the other. When he finished, he took Akira's hand and pressed the phone into it, but he didn't let go. Those brown eyes fixed him with a penetrating look. Akira never wanted to look away.

"You take care of yourself now, okay? I need to be getting home to work on a project for a client." He looked quizzical for a moment, as though trying to remember something. "Alright, I don't recall if I mentioned this already, but I'm living with my mother right now; you remember her house? You can come by whenever you like, and even if I'm not there, my mom can fix something warm for you at the very least."

When he let go, Akira curled his fingers around that lingering warmth, and nodded without saying anything. Then Oikawa smiled, wished him farewell, and was moving off back up the road once more, a whistling tune on his lips, fading into the distance. When Akira went home, he tried hard to move past it, but found he couldn't. Oikawa had left him literally covered in reminders. Afternoon bled into evening. Hunger started to carve at him again. _But I'm warm. It's a start. If it's a start, then... what happens next?_


	4. Different Names for the Same Thing || Little Lion Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brother wrote the first 3 paragraphs to this chapter, though at the time we'd not decided to divide the story into chapters. It's just how it worked out I suppose.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, as always!

What happened next was this, a little under a week after that day by the shrine. Oikawa had given him his number. He’d told him he could call whenever. At the time, Akira had thought that this was a small waste, because he rarely used the phone if he could possibly help it. His neighbor, a girl whom he only knew through those recurring moments of compassion, was a solitary exception. Admittedly, she did bring him things like milk from time to time, luxuries he mostly could not afford. The phone was, therefore, full of conflicting connotations. In his mind burned something unusually strong, and it was this: _This can be what you make it_.

_I want to make this good, came the alien response_. Trembling fingers pressed the numbers slowly at first, but a fear that this moment would pass urged him on. Oikawa did not make him wait. However, the next thing Akira did caused him to him swear aloud. His phone rang again as Oikawa redialed the number. Abashed, he answered it.

“…Hi,” he spoke meekly, embarrassed. It had been instinctive. To just hang up. But, as Akira could have hoped, Oikawa wasn’t angry at him.

“Heya! You alright?” His voice was soft and kind, but energized. Akira allowed himself a small smile and, since he was lying on his side, rested the phone on his cheek so that he did not have to hold it up, letting gravity do all the work.

“No, well; yes, ah… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hang up on you.” Arguably, he'd meant it a little, but perhaps reflex didn't count. He wanted to hear that voice again.

"You're fine; no need to apologize. I'm a little surprised! I wasn't sure I'd get a call from you, and so soon at that. I thought maybe a text, or something..."

"I don't really have a lot going on," Akira heard himself mutter. His mouth ran a lot without him these days, it seemed. "So I guess I got a little impatient." _I suppose it doesn't matter, being this honest. It's Oikawa, after all._

"That's fine. I've just been keeping up with work myself, but I'm not too busy if you want to swing by later." Just audible in the pauses was the sound of keys tapping, signalling to Akira that Oikawa was probably at a desk. He wondered what kind of work Oikawa did - perhaps the photography wasn't just a hobby? After all, he'd mentioned something about a client the day they'd departed.

Akira thought about the hole in his stomach that had steadily grown bigger since their meal together. Not that he hadn't eaten anything, but milk and crackers hardly put a dent in hunger that never left him. _If I go there now, I can eat._ But it wasn't just the thought of food that appealed to him. "Can I come over now?" He rocked once, feeling unusually apprehensive.

Oikawa's quick response reassured him. "Oh, sure! Not a problem at all. It's not too cold today, but you should at least wear your coat." 

_Still trying to keep me warm, even with this distance?_ Akira steadied the phone as he sat up and looked at the coat he'd left draped over the end of his mattress. "Of course, Oikawa. I'll be there soon."

The journey consisted of half a mile on foot and a ten minute ride by train, something Akira would never have attempted on the best of days. He didn't necessarily know what kept pushing him to make these decisions and then, more startling still, stick to them. There was just a certain quality that Oikawa had always possessed that made one want to do better, to try harder, to experiment and discover where one's true limitations lay, and how to go about dismantling them thereafter. Akira stepped off the train, anxious but set, and walked the rest of the way to Oikawa's neighborhood.

He'd only been here a few times. He best remembered the spring when the whole team had come to Oikawa's house for a kind of picnic or party. It had been an unseasonably warm day, and the atmosphere was light among them. He remembered good food and the usual hysteria of the team dynamics that had made Aoba Johsai feel something akin to a dysfunctional family - but a family nevertheless. Abruptly, Akira brushed away those distant happy times. _That's just the past. It doesn't matter._

Now he stood on the doorstep, and his anxiety had grown considerably since arriving at the station. Still a voice kept saying, _I want to make this good_. He rang the doorbell, took a step back, and waited with his heart in his throat. When the door opened, Oikawa's aging mother smiled back at him.

"Akira, is that you? My, how you've grown! Please come in dear; it's not too cold but the wind's a little nippy, isn't it?" She ushered him in enthusiastically, and sent him to the kitchen to sit down at the small table.

Akira found himself grinning, just barely. _Oh, so your dear old mother remembered me, but you didn't?_ The idea of being able to tease Oikawa once again on the matter pleased him greatly. _I almost forgot how fun mischief could be. Didn't we always used to tease him?_ He watched the woman walk down a corridor and out of sight, then heard a series of gentle knocks. After a few minutes, she returned and invited Akira to follow her, promising she'd fix something to eat and drink for the both of them.

When Akira reached the door, he slowed, hand resting on the frame and wondering whether or not he should enter. The room was dark apart from a lamp on his desk, but Oikawa's smile was bright when he turned to face Akira, inviting him in with a broad wave of his hand. _Just let go_. Releasing the door frame, Akira stepped in and gently closed the door behind him.

"So... do you want to know what your mother said to me at the door?" Rocking on his heels, he tried not to give himself away too much. He watched Oikawa's brows furrow in thought, but tried to pretend he was looking at his own feet.

"Hm? She wasn't totally embarrassing or something, was she?" He looked worriedly past Akira, even though the door was already closed.

Akira shook his head, keeping his face down so as to hide the sly smile. "No, no, but you might be embarrassed to know that she called me by my name right off the bat. So it can't be age, can it?" He looked up now to see Oikawa's mouth agape, and giggled.

"Ah, geeze; how did I mess up so bad? You're not mad at me, are you?" He made a puppy face, causing Akira to giggle a little more at how pathetic he looked.

"No, not angry. Just teasing you." _Like we all did._ He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling guilty about the thought. _Times past. Times past._

Quickly recovering from the teasing, Oikawa continued apologetically. "Sorry about the low light; I try to keep the glare off my screen so that working with the digital photos is a little easier." As Akira had guessed, Oikawa sat at his desk in an office chair. He could just make out pictures of a large building on the screen. "Hey, if you want to sit anywhere, that's fine. Here; let me turn on the floor lamp by my dresser..."

Glancing around the room, Akira sought a place where he thought would be appropriate. There weren't a lot of choices. Oikawa only had two chairs in his room - the wheelchair, sitting next to the desk, and the office chair, which Oikawa was using. With a sigh, Akira folded his legs and sat on the ground. The lamp turned on after Oikawa had hobbled over to it, Akira watching him and wondering if it hurt to walk even short distances.

When Oikawa turned around and saw Akira on the floor, he let out a small gasp. "Alright, when I said 'anywhere' I didn't really mean... ah, come here." He limped over to Akira, and now facing him, Akira could see the tightness in his jaw as he concentrated on his gate.

Ashamed at having made Oikawa walk more than he needed, Akira rose quickly to meet the other. "Please sit down, really, I'm okay..." This didn't deter Oikawa however, who took Akira by the wrist and pulled the unresistant body along with him towards the neatly made bed in the corner by the window. "Um, Oikawa, isn't that yours?" Well obviously; what a stupid question.

Still Oikawa said nothing as he turned Akira around, gently, and pressed down on his shoulders so that Akira was forced to sit on the edge of the bed. Now Akira could see his face again, and more guilt clawed at him. Oikawa seemed wiped by the effort, even though the entire trip from the lamp to the bed couldn't have taken more than a minute. When Akira thought about his journey from his tiny apartment to this house, he scolded himself for having ever considered it a challenge.

"I'm sorry, Oikawa; please sit down now, I didn't mean to make you overwork yourself..." Oikawa collapsed backward across the mattress beside him, sighing in relief. _Why am I so selfish?_ Just when he thought he'd be consumed by self-loathing, Oikawa spoke for the first time.

"Pain is relative," were his simple words. It was as though he were responding to Akira's private thoughts. "I know you're probably trying to compare your struggles to mine. Because I can see that you've been struggling, even though you haven't yet said anything." He shifted to his side, so that he could look up at Akira. "So please tell me how you got here. You know my story. I want to know yours."

_Why does he care to know about that?_ Even in his coat, Akira felt cold. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms under his legs. The bed shifted, and something heavy but soft fell over his back and shoulders. Oikawa had draped a blanket on him, but his expression hadn't changed. It still encouraged him to speak. Breathing out a defeated sigh, Akira rose and pulled the corners of the blanket tighter about his frame.

"Everything was different after you left." _I don't know how he'll take this. I hope he doesn't think I'm blaming him._ "Aoba Johsai was okay. But when I got into university and joined the team there..." _Lazy_. Akira narrowed his eyes. "I just didn't feel all that motivated. I wasn't really sure I wanted to be there." _Come on. Aren't you going to be disappointed in me?_ "The captain didn't like me very much. He said I was a waste of space." _Well, those weren't his exact words, but they may as well have been._ "He kept telling me I was just being... just being lazy. He said he didn't understand why I'd even joined in the first place. So finally I just... quit." 

Akira looked back at Oikawa, wondering what he'd say and fearing the worst. There was a scowl on his face, a kind of look of disgust, and at first Akira thought it was directed at him. But he was wrong. 

"I should be asking him why he thought he was good enough to be a captain," Oikawa spat. "That is the captain's job, to motivate, if one of his teammates isn't pushing himself enough. That's the captain's responsibility. It's not your fault, Kunimi. You didn't deserve that."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you...?" _I can't help but feel like I really shouldn't be complaining._

"It's not mutually exclusive, Kunimi." Oikawa struggled into an upright position, still looking frustrated. "Look. I put in 200% as a captain, into every player, so that they gave me back 100% in return." He fixed Akira with an impassioned look. "As a captain, you don't get to pussyfoot around. Every member of the team is your responsibility. Let down just one, and you've let down your whole team." His hands were in motion as he spoke, and something bright and alive danced in his chocolate eyes. "You deserve that 200% as much as the guy already giving back the 100. Your effort or lack thereof shouldn't determine that. You and Kyoutani gave me the most trouble, but did I give up on either of you? Of course not. That's why you made me captain; there was no one more qualified than me. That's not pride speaking. That's just plain fact."

Bewildered, Akira replayed back in his mind all that Oikawa had just said to him. It brought back fresh memories of Aoba Johsai, causing Akira to wince a little. _That was just the past though_. Yet Oikawa's point could still be felt; Akira was not denying that. Still he struggled with accepting that it could possibly matter now. After all, hadn't he gone and thrown it all away shortly after?

"Still... I didn't fair too well after I quit. Actually, I also quit university. I couldn't stand to think about having to see my old teammates." He shifted the blanket on his shoulders and fiddled with the hems. "I tried to get a job... but the hard part really was keeping one. So I sort of gave up on that too." _And now I don't really do anything, and it's still hard_. "I got rid of everything. Found this small apartment... moved in there, sort of picked up painting and started doing that." _For all the good it'll do me later_. "Mostly I spend the money on buying more paint. Food too, if I think about it. Not that it really matters."

"Why wouldn't food matter?" Snapped Oikawa, so sharply picking up on that last remark that Akira was momentarily caught off guard and speechless.

"Well... I don't really know if I'll make it through 'till winter." _I don't know if I really want to_. "So whether or not I have food... it won't matter for very long." _Food is for the living and the present, and I'm hardly here at all_.

"Of course it matters," Oikawa told him plainly, and though his voice was nearly a whisper it rang with confidence. He appeared to nod to himself, almost imperceptibly, as though confirming some private thought. "Look, maybe you don't see it now. But I'll show you. And you'll see it later." Again his face took on that intense passion of before, and he continued. "I'm gonna give you that 200% again, because now more than ever, you need it. Please just stay with me long enough for me to do that. Let me at least try."

_What is he even talking about?_ Still, Akira had always trusted in his words, and Oikawa had never failed him before. If there was anyone in the world who might have a chance of giving Akira's life some meaning, it was Oikawa Tooru. _Alright. I'll give it just one chance. But only one._ Slowly, he nodded.

Sagging with relief, Oikawa smiled and closed his eyes. "Good. Thank you." 

Why are you thanking me? The thoguth was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Oikawa's mom entered with a tray of food and drink. Oikawa beckoned her over, and she set the tray down on the bed beside him.

The thoughts in Akira's head were a mess. _I don't understand you._ He took the plate that was offered, and began to eat, this time sure to slow himself down. _It's not that big of a deal. No one would miss me anyway_. The hot food helped to warm his perpetually cold body. _Still... this warmth is not something I can pass up._ After they'd finished the meal, Oikawa took the plate from Akira and set it back on the tray, then placed the tray on the ground by the foot of the bed.

He exhaled dramatically, then turned to look at Akira. "Want me to fix your hair up again?" He chirped the question, sounding excited. "I have more clips and stuff at home."

Akira couldn't help but be a little enthralled at the offer. He'd been reluctant to take his hair down that night, but he couldn't sleep with all the clips in. "Do you have an actual hair tie for the braid? I wouldn't have to take it out then."

"Sure! They're in my bathroom, through that door over there." He pointed across the room, to what Akira had originally thought to be a closet. "Mom had the house renovated so I wouldn't need to go down the hall for the bathroom. It was expensive, but... I guess that didn't really matter to her."

"I can get them for you. I've made you walk around enough." Again, he felt guilty. _I can make it up though. I think... this is something he wants to do?_ It felt as strange as it always had when people gave him the impression that they were interested in helping him, whether out of pity or general compassion. Just to think that someone else had him in mind, even when he wasn't present... _Like my neighbor, buying me milk._

The bathroom was spacious and clean, and the sink counter looked tidy despite numerous products spread across it. _For his hair, I guess...? Does he really stand here and do that, even though...?_ At first Akira thought, _how vain_ , but he forced himself to look at it from another angle. _If I'm not lazy, then maybe he's not vain_. Akira remembered what he knew about Oikawa. _I guess he was always concerned with how people viewed him. That still sounds vain, but... perhaps this is just something that helps him feel better about himself_. He considered how Oikawa must view himself now. Words like _cripple_ , _useless_ , and _wasted potential_ came to mind. _Maybe this is just one small luxury he affords himself, despite the trouble._

Eventually, he found a whole mess of hair ties and clips in one of the drawers, so he picked out the ones with more subdued colors and brought them back. Though still somewhat uneasy, Akira saw that Oikawa was smiling when he came back into the room. _I want to understand your happiness_. He sat down again on the bed, and pulled the blankets around him, shivering. _Never warm enough_. Oikawa shifted behind him, took the hair tie and the clips offered, and got to work combing through Akira's hair. First he braided the back, humming as he worked, then he pushed back the bangs in the front and fixed them in place with the clips.

"You look great," he said when he'd finished. Akira wanted to reach up and touch the fingers that squeezed his shoulder, but he didn't allow himself to. _Not yet_. Oikawa bunched up more of the covers over Akira's body, then stood slowly. The breath in Akira's voice caught for a moment, but Oikawa limped carefully over to his office chair, and sat down without a word of complaint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 of my posting this, and I've already got 2 subs and 4 kudos?! Guys, you don't know how happy that makes me....
> 
> If you're reading this, thank you for coming this far! You're the best! And I hope that, if you chose to listen to the playlist while reading, it's enjoyable. My brother and I carefully carefully sifted through various songs that struck as and felt right for the tone, and I arranged them in the order they're in now. "I Found" by Amber Run was the first... it's the song that gave me the inspiration for the original idea for the pitch of this story. I think that, when you reach the end of _Autumn Wanderer_ , you'll really like how it fits with the last song, "Woodwork". But no spoilers! You'll just have to find out for yourself what that means!
> 
> Again again though; thank you so much for reading! I hope you find money on the ground or get a nice compliment from a stranger! You deserve it!


	5. What You're Thinking || Airplane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh this thing is accruing kudos way faster than I'd anticipated. ;u;b Thank you so much! I'll try to put out _at least_ a chapter a day, if not more. They're all technically written, so the hard part left is the html editing to get all the italics sorted out.

Going back to his apartment later that day felt unreal. The walk to the station, the time spent sitting on the train, trying not to fall asleep before reaching his stop; it all seemed detached from him, somehow. While it wasn't like the last time, where he'd been left with countless reminders of the encounter, Akira still couldn't shake lingering memories of every touch and every look. When at last he made it through his door and leaned heavily against it, he thought about their last conversation.

Akira had noticed the blue oblong after some time of silence between the two of them. His eyes had merely been wandering about the room, but it was the color that drew him to it. _The painting I sold him._

"So you really did take it home, then." He'd mumbled, somewhat absent in mind. Oikawa turned around to see where Akira was looking.

"Well, yeah. I haven't been able to put it up though, sadly." A rueful smile crossed his face when he said this. "Do you think you could do it for me? I have some sticky tack there, so you don't have to nail anything into the wall."

Akira had been happy to put up the painting, but upon seeing it, he suddenly felt dissatisfied. It was old, probably a year or so, and a little voice inside had said, _you can do better_. He'd offered to make Oikawa a better one, and that had been that. But he was tired now, and was unsure of where to begin. _Even though a sky is really simple. It's just blue_. He shook his head wearily, approached his bed, and collapsed into it, fingers pulling gently at the clips in his hair to remove them as he hit the mattress. He laid them out beside the others, and stared at them for a while, lost in thought.

Sleep came as easy and as quickly as it always did. And like always, he dreamed of nothing. Yet as morning broke and the sun moved across the sky, Akira woke and felt yet another powerful desire to go out and do things. His stomach growled loudly into the silent late morning, and Akira's eyes opened. He knew where he wanted to go now.

The walk to Matsukawa's and Hanamaki's curry restaurant was not as long as Akira had anticipated, although he reasoned this might have something to do with the detour from the shrine they'd taken last time. The flashing sign still read 'OPEN', so Akira did not slow as he approached the door through the parking lot. He was a little nervous, unsure if they'd really take care of him as Oikawa had implied they would. 

Nevertheless, he pushed through the door. It was more crowded today, perhaps because it was closer to noon. Spotting a seat at the counter, he took it quickly, craning his neck to try and see back into the kitchen. There the two were busy cooking and preparing food for their customers, a lively banter going between them. _They seem too preoccupied to be dealing with someone like me_. He was about to rise and leave, but one of them spotted him and called out.

"Oi, Kunimi! It's good to see you again!" Hanamaki set down the spice shaker he'd been holding, wiped his hands on his apron, and jogged over. "Hm? Oikawa's not with you?" He glanced around briefly, his questioning look finally falling on Akira.

"O-oh, no; it's just me... sorry." _Why am I apologizing for that?_ Akira pulled his feet up onto the seat.

"No, that's fine." Hanamaki grinned easily at him. "So, what can I get ya? Same as last time? How about a hot drink this time 'round? Matsukawa makes some killer hot cocoa if you're interested." As if on queue, Matsukawa waved at the counter, though his focus remained on the pots and pans sizzling and bubbling on the assorted oven top burners. Giving them a last once over with his eyes, he turned to walk farther back into the kitchen before turning into a walk-in pantry. He returned a little later with a jug of milk and a few bars of what Akira thought might be chocolate.

Frowning, Akira dropped his chins to his knees. "I can't actually afford anything right now, so..." _Why did I come here again?_

Hanamaki's eyes widened. "What? Oikawa wasn't kidding when he said he rescued you, huh?" He shouted the same order as the week before back at Matsukawa, who again waved in acknowledgement. "You're in a pinch, isn't that right! Well, don't sweat it okay? We're on the same team, right?" 

_The same team? Aoba Johsai was a long time ago..._ Regardless of his negative thoughts, Akira didn't try to fight Hanamaki's generosity. He could hardly - and quite literally - afford to say no to free commodities. Sighing in self-disgust, Akira let his head rest on the counter after Hanamaki had left him to help Matsukawa keep up with the orders. The sounds of the small, busy space filtered through Akira's ears like white noise, meaningless and somehow distant despite his proximity to it all. He thought about all the kind and smiling faces he'd seen recently. _Why does any of this matter so much to you people?_

A tap on the top of his head startled him back to the present, and he stared wide-eyed up into Matsukawa's face. He was giving Akira a critical eye, but in his hand he held a plate piled high with steaming food. Now that Akira had removed his head from the counter, Matsukawa gently placed it down, but didn't stop looking at him. Akira began to fidget, wondering if he'd have to pay after all.

"Takahiro says you look malnourished. I don't have a good eye for that myself, but I'll take his word for it." He settled against the counter, still eyeing Akira carefully.

"Well, I don't eat much at my apartment." Akira tried to dissuade further conversation by stuffing his mouth, vaguely thinking that Matsukawa had other customers and needn't bother with a leech like himself. _I'm not even paying for this meal, I think._

"Hm, 'my apartment', huh." Matsukawa tilted his head, looking thoughtful. Akira wondered vaguely why that bit got repeated. "Well, that much is obvious. You need money or something?" 

_Oh, no. He is upset that I can't pay._ Akira lowered one leg slowly, ready to walk out if he needed to.

This wasn't Matsukawa's intent, however. "If you're going to be eating our food for free, you might as well work for a small wage while you're at it."

Akira choked briefly, coughed a few times, then set the chopsticks down to stare at Matsukawa incredulously. "Are you offering me a job?" _He can't be serious... would I even bother to show up to work?_ Hanamaki had joined his friend, a large mug in one hand - the hot chocolate Matsukawa had earlier prepared.

"Got your hot drink here! Issei, if you'll move for a second." They shuffled around and switched places. Gratefully, Akira took the mug from Hanamaki, thanking him in a quiet voice.

"Say, Takahiro, we could sure use some help around here, wouldn't you say?" Matsukawa jabbed Hanamaki in the ribs, grinning.

"Oh, so that's what you were chatting about, then?" He smiled back at Akira, who ducked his head and raised the mug to his lips, as if it could hide him. 

_Don't get ahead of yourselves!_ "I don't think I'd be a very good cook... I'd forget about the stove and nod off, probably. Don't let me burn the place down!" _What good could I do here?_

"Huh? Oh, like Takahiro here hasn't nearly done us in before hi- ouch!" Matsukawa yelped as Hanamaki stamped on his foot, effectively shutting him up. "Er, but in all seriousness... you just gotta show up; no big deal. You let us know what kind of schedule works for you, and we'll accommodate you."

Hanamaki added, "you can leave all the cooking to us, okay? And honestly, aren't we doing this for you? We can take care of the business but if you're strapped for cash, we don't mind having someone else around from time to time." He laughed sheepishly. "Er, and any help with counting the bills from the register at the end of the day would be appreciated... I always lose count."

_"...aren't we doing this for you?"_ Akira stared at them, completely floored. _You are. You are doing this just for me. I don't get it._ He thought about declining. But his mouth had other ideas. "Thank you. I accept. Just let me think about what times would work best for me." _Alright, Oikawa. I'll put in at least 10%. You wanted me to at least try. I... I want to understand your happiness!_

For the first time in years, Akira set goals. _I will go to work twice a week. I will visit Oikawa twice a week also, maybe even more._ Nothing much changed for him when he returned to his apartment. He did not suddenly start cleaning, or painting with vigor. He lay down and took a nap. But in his mind, he thought, _I will try harder._ He didn't wake up any earlier than normal that morning, either. However, when he did at last rise from the mattress into a sitting position, the first thing he did was reach for his phone.

_Don't hang up this time._ Akira was almost too embarrassed by this sudden thought to hit the dial button, but he shook his head and did it anyway. It went for several rings before Oikawa picked up. Quickly, he lay down on his side and let the phone rest on his ear. _If my hands aren't on it, I can't hang up._

"Good morning, Kunimi. I was just thinking about calling you today. I'm surprised you've twice beat me to it." He chuckled. "I hope I'm not being too mean. You wanna come over? I'm only finishing up a project, so I'll probably be done by the time you get here, unless you've invented teleportation. Oh, and if you have, please tell me the secret!"

Akira's nose scrunched in amusement. "Sorry, not quite there yet. I'll let you know when I hit my breakthrough. But I'd be happy to come over the normal way." He touched his face, which felt warm from the blush there. _You're so silly._ He wondered what to do now, having said what he wanted to say and unsure how to end the conversation from there.

Oikawa saved Akira from himself, much to his intense relief. "Alright then, have a safe trip over. Maybe the lovely day will help you think on that epiphany. See you in a little while!" Akira thanked him, and Oikawa hung up.

The trek from his apartment to Oikawa's house didn't feel as long or arduous this time around, somehow. When he stepped off the train onto the platform, a lukewarm sun shone down on the world. As the wind stirred, leaves drifted down from the trees and swirled around his feet in little eddies. Above, the sky was a broad expanse of blue, cloudless and without end. _A beautiful day indeed._

At the house, Oikawa's mother greeted him as she'd done before, promising a hot meal and drinks to go with it. Akira smiled, actually feeling a little flustered this time by her fussing, and hurriedly he went to Oikawa's door and knocked. This time, Oikawa opened it himself, grinning wide at Akira's still-flustered expression. And this time, Akira did not sit on the floor. He made himself comfortable on the bed, wrapping every blanket and cover in reach around his shoulders.

"Nice and warm, eh?" Oikawa wheeled over, eyes twinkling in genuine joy. Akira wasn't sure he'd ever seen that look before.

Sinking deeper into the cocoon of covers, Akira spoke. "I have some good news." He smiled when Oikawa perked. "Hanamaki and Matsukawa offered me a job at the curry place, so now I go there two days a week. Well, I will. I haven't started working just yet." _Not that I really know how much actual "work" I'll be doing._

Despite Akira's reservations, Oikawa was over the moon. "That's so great! See, I told you they were pretty great. Well maybe I didn't say that, but I've always thought so. Okay, so maybe not always. But you get the picture. Hey, I'm really happy for you!" To Akira's surprise, Oikawa took his hands in his excitement, and gave them a squeeze. _He's so happy, it's... sort of infectious._

The flush returned to his face, but Akira nodded, smiling abashedly. "Now I don't have to feel so bad about taking free food from them." When Oikawa stood up, Akira held a little tighter to those hands while the other shifted from the chair to the bed. _They're not as soft as they looked. But there are no more fresh injuries. And... still warm._ Akira yawned, much to his embarrassment.

"You a little sleepy there?" Akira tried not to look up at Oikawa, who he thought for sure must be laughing at him. However, there was a tenderness in his tone when he spoke that shook Akira in a strange way. "You can take a nap here, if you want to. I really don't mind. So long as you're here and you're safe, I don't mind."

_So long as I'm here_. Sighing, Akira closed his eyes. _I only woke up about an hour ago. But I'm always tired_. He felt Oikawa's hand slip out of his own, then an arm looped around him and pulled him gently onto his side. Turning awkwardly in the swathing of blankets, he managed to shuffled off of the covers he was lying on and face Oikawa at the same time.

"I'm just sleepy all the time, I guess. So not very different from high school." _But you were never angry. Never._ "Are you... staying as well?" _I think that would comfort me._

"Hm? Only if you want me to." Oikawa lay on his back, folded his hands over his abdomen, and closed his eyes. Feeling guilty about hogging all the blankets, Akira tentatively pushed the edge over to Oikawa, who took it and pulled it over himself without opening his eyes.

_You have such patience with me. You don't mind if all I do is sleep when I'm here. It doesn't trouble you for me to want you to stay._ All of these things were familiar in a way, and it did comforted him. Sleep overcame him soon after. Oikawa couldn't remain in the same place for long, though. After he was sure Akira was out, he wriggled off the end of his bed, sat down in his chair, and got to work on his laptop.

Halfway through his nap, Akira woke to the sound of music, and the sensation of the sounds as each note went straight to his chest was a rattling of his bones. He audibly gasped, alerting Oikawa to his return to the waking world. Peering across the room to the bed, Oikawa noticed Akira was shaking, and became worried. 

He tentatively approached. "Kunimi? You alright there?" Akira sat up slowly, as if in a daze, eyes blown wide and heart thudding in his chest. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Music... A simple, intangible thing he'd had no contact with for years now. So many months of his life had flown by in silence, marked only by the white noises of a broken AC or the sounds of traffic outside his window. He didn't care that he didn't know what was playing. _It's music._ Slowly, he realized that Oikawa was watching him with concern, and he focused hard on coming out of that daze to respond to him.

"No, not a bad dream." _I don't even know what to say._ He couldn't bring himself to think, it's only music. But he wasn't sure how to convey the enormity of just hearing those first few notes, and realizing it was music. "Ehm... the song... it's a nice song," he managed, sounding forced; perhaps because they weren't exactly the right words.

"Oh. Yeah, it's my work music. I used to play it from my iPod while working out or doing practice alone; that kind of thing. They're motivator songs, I guess. I didn't really think you'd be into this type of genre." Oikawa went back to his desk to fetch his laptop, which he unplugged before returning. "There's the name, if you wanna write it down for later."

_For later. But I have nowhere to replay it from._ "Hm. Thank you. But maybe later." Akira tucked his knees under his chin and wrapped his slender arms about his legs. Smiling at him softly, Oikawa set the laptop down on the floor, and folded his hands in his lap, head tilted down and moving slightly to the beat.

"Remember when I used to share my iPod with you?" He asked suddenly, peering up at Akira without moving his head. "You didn't think you'd like it at first. Hah, but it grew on you, didn't it?" He chuckled fondly at the memory.

"I do remember that." _It was one of the ways you helped to motivate me._ "I always wondered why you paid such close attention to me. But I did enjoy the music." Akira rocked, trying not to look directly at Oikawa.

"Hm? Well, I had to! You were almost as troublesome as Mattsun and Makki, in your own way." Grinning at Akira's startled expression, he quickly continued. "Hey, don't feel badly or anything! Wasn't it you lot that kept things interesting? It wouldn't have been Aoba Johsai without a little madness."

_I don't want to talk about the past._ Akira leaned back until he'd tipped over completely, exhaling softly as his body settled against the mattress. He listened for Oikawa, but the other had gone quiet, as though sensing the mood. How does he always know? Akira closed his eyes, focusing on the melody instead.

After a while, he heard a muffled clatter as Oikawa put the laptop back on the desk, but Akira didn't stir. For the moment, he just wanted to lie there. The minutes passed with neither of them speaking, but it was peaceful. The music played, keys tapped, and occasionally the desk chair creaked as Oikawa shifted positions. All Akira could think was it's warm, it's warm, it's warm. While dozing, he became aware of the bed shifting, and his body leaning towards whatever weight was causing the mattress to bow. It was Oikawa.

"Hope you don't mind if I join you," muttered Oikawa when Akira turned his head to look. He sounded tired all of a sudden, and looked it, too. "It'll be getting colder this afternoon and colder still by evening. If you want, my mom could drive you back to your apartment."

_Colder. Autumn is growing older, then._ "Nn, don't want to..." _I want to stay here. Would that be too much to ask for? Where does he draw the line?_

"Well it's either you get going now or you stay here until morning. I'm not making you walk in weather like that." The mattress shook again as Oikawa pulled himself up farther onto the bed. "Also, don't you want to lie down lengthwise with the bed?"

"Mmmm." Akira couldn't be bothered to say words. This earned him a light laugh from Oikawa.

"Okay, sleepyhead, just move over so I can lie down next to you. My mom might be in later with food, too, so try and stay awake for that." He pressed closer to Akira, trying to push him into the suggested position. Akira giggled at him, trying to go completely limp and immovable. "Hey now, I know you're doing that on purpose! You gonna make a cripple work harder than he needs to?"

Before he could stop himself, Akira replied, "Than he... kneeds to?" Looking up at Oikawa's incredulous face, he started laughing.

"Har har; never heard _that_ one before, smarty pants." Oikawa leaped on him now, gathering him up in his arms and rolling over him, causing Akira to shriek in surprise. Akira finally shifted position so that they were both lying the right way on the bed, sincerely laughing with joy at the unexpected antics.

"I win I wiiin! Tell me I'm the winner, Kunimi-chaaan!" Oikawa, arms still wrapped around Akira's body and arms, teasingly whined in his ear.

"So you're going to call me that now, hm? Akira wiggled in his bundle of blankets, trapped by both them and Oikawa's arms. "Do you have to nickname everything?"

"Only the important things," his voice returned to normal, but Akira could hear the smile in it, "and only if you don't mind."

Akira pretended to give this intense thought. "Hmmm... well, let me think about this. Alright, but not all the time. Deal?" He looked up at Oikawa, with a feigned expression of seriousness. Oikawa snorted.

"Okay, we have a deal. I'll only do it if I'm teasing you." He loosened his grip a little, letting out an exhausted breath. "Do you mind if I touch you like this? I totally forgot to ask; I'm sorry..."

_No, this is just fine._ "I actually kind of like it." _This is actually... really nice._ "I don't think I ever really had any huggy friends. But this I don't mind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who has read up to this point - ahhhh???? You're amazing!! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for staying with this story which is so near and dear to my heart. And for anyone who has _already_ left kudos, even so earlier into the story, thank you thank you thank you some more!! Let's keep it up okay? _Autumn Wanderer's_ not even halfway through yet! Some of my favorite scenes are yet to come... so stay tuned and stay awesome!


	6. Lost! || Mr. Brightside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh this is one of my favorite chapters. The final part of the chapter - you'll know it when you get to it - was something I envisioned the night after the first day of back-and-forth storytelling with my brother. I was listening to Amber Run's "I Found" on repeat, and it sort of just unfolded in my mind... I pitched it to my brother the next day and he just loved it. It was also one of the very first scenes I actually wrote, because of how vivid in my mind it had become. Anyway, I think the whole chapter in its entirety is a wonderful chapter, so I hope you enjoy it, too.

Though he stayed for dinner, Akira found himself too nervous to stay the night and politely asked that Oikawa's mother drive him back to his apartment. She was quiet most of the way, for which Akira was thankful. He'd expended just about all his social energy and wasn't sure what he'd say to her, anyway. Exhausted, he reached his doorstep and paused outside, palm pressed against the thin wood. He could see each breath on the exhale - the temperature had dropped significantly after the sun went down, and Akira felt the cold forming ice in his very bones.

He walked through the door, removed his shoes carefully, took a few paces, and fell softly into his mattress on the floor, still wearing his jacket. First he didn't move, but after a few minutes, he groped about in the dark until he'd found his thin blanket, and pulled it over his body. None of it felt real. _It could easily have been a dream._ He knew it wasn't, but it had the same fading feeling. _I think I'll stay home tomorrow. Maybe paint. I'll have to let Mattsun know about my schedule plans, too. Later, later._ He drew himself together, shivering, but no more than five minutes later he'd fallen asleep.

At the end of the week, Akira had finally worked up the courage and the drive to go back to the curry place to sort out a real schedule for work. Every step took immense effort. He forced himself to zero in on the goal, to not think about the walk itself. _Focus on the goals you set._ He pushed all other thoughts from his head, until at last, he'd reached the small parking lot, allowing himself to rest briefly on the steps while he rubbed his gloved hands against his arms to warm them up with friction.

The door opened behind him, and Akira turned to see Matsukawa standing in the doorway, a small but inviting smile on his lips. "Good to see you on a fine Saturday like this." His thick brows furrowed, and he wrapped his arms around his body. "Whew, but it's chilly out isn't it? Come on in; it's nice and warm in the kitchen."

Akira followed Matsukawa through a little side gate in the counter, and Hanamaki greeted them as they arrived. "The weather's changing again, isn't it? Oh, but it's supposed to be unseasonably warm again the week after next. Fall sure is weird, isn't it?" He laughed, and Matsukawa poked his ear playfully.

"Don't go being a loudmouth, Hiro; you know Kunimi's not the talkative type." They walked past the still-chuckling Hanamaki to a small and cluttered desk in the back, where an ancient computer monitor sat with dozens of papers in untidy stacks littering the surface. Akira winced at its sorry state, thinking of his own organized apartment.

_Well, it's kind of hard to be messy when you don't own much._ Matsukawa pulled out a stool from underneath the table, and told Akira he could sit.

His voice dropped low. "Alright, Akira; listen. I've been talking with Oikawa over the last week." Akira tilted his head in confusion.

_They've been talking? Why?_ He slowly eased his mittens off and tucked them into a pocket as he listened. He knew why, but he didn't know _why._

The other continued, still speaking evenly. "So I just want you to know that we're not going to push you too hard. I want you to go at your own pace. For now, just showing up is enough. Takahiro and I can take care of the kitchen and the customers just fine." He shifted on his feet from where he leaned against the messy table. "If you're feeling up to it, you can help mop the floor or wash the dishes; that kind of thing. That closet there," and he pointed to a door behind himself, "has the mops, wash clothes, soap and bleach; that kind of stuff. Just let us know if you're going to do that so we can keep out of your way."

The world seemed muted somehow. _You don't have to do this_. Matsukawa patted his shoulder and returned to the kitchen area, but Akira kept staring at the place where he'd been before. _But I'm warm, aren't I?_ Idly, Akira sifted through some of the papers on the table, reading only phrases and words that stood out, understanding nothing. Distorted sounds reached him from the kitchen and restaurant beyond, people speaking and plates clanking, sizzling pans and the shuffling footsteps of Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

_I should at least do something._ Akira snapped out of the daze, and put his attention on the papers. Half-buried under some of the stacks were old, empty cups and other stray items that did not belong. Without giving it much thought, Akira started by removing anything that wasn't a paper, pen, or other office-related thing. He didn't know how long he kept at this - reading the tops of papers and making sure text that continued on another page were kept together. It was therapeutic, this organization. But it was also tiring. After a while, he stopped, took a deep breath, and turned back to the kitchen, hoping to get the attention of at least one of them.

It was Hanamaki that noticed his expression of need. He practically skipped over, smiling from ear to ear. When he reached Akira, he gasped at the sight of the desk.

"Wow! I forgot what color the wood was underneath!" Joked Hanamaki, running a finger over the surface. "Still needs to be cleaned, but that'll be easier now that we can _see_ the desk." 

Akira felt himself blush. "Um, I really couldn't stand to keep looking at it..."

"You're like Matsukawa, then. He's just been too busy to do anything about this old desk of ours though, so he'll be really pleased with you." He beamed at Akira, cuffing him lightly on the shoulder.

"O-oh, is that so." Akira rubbed his shoulder a little, but it hadn't really hurt that much. "I think I need to go back to the apartment now, though, if that's okay..." _We never actually talked about hours, I guess._

Hanamaki nodded seriously. "I see, I see. Had enough then? That's okay! I'd say you've done plenty for a first day. We'll see you next week then, right?" He rested a hand on the cleared table surface and leaned down, still smiling easily.

Akira stretched his legs out, which he'd had up on the stool seat a moment earlier. "Well, if it's really okay." He hopped off the stool, turned to go, then paused. "Oh. And thank you. Tell Matsukawa 'thank you' as well."

"Certainly, certainly! Hope to really see you again next week." Hanamaki gave Akira a friendly pat on the back, and turned to the kitchen again, nearly sending him crashing into Matsukawa. "Oh, dear; sorry Issei! Didn't see you there."

Grinning with mischief, Matsukawa pinched the bridge of Hanamaki's nose and forced him to move aside, laughing at the chorus of 'Ow!' and 'Ack!' that went with it. "Do you want to send Akira's lunch all over the floor? We're not sending him back without a hot meal, right?"

In mock indignation, Hanamaki rubbed his nose. "Well, of course not! But you don't have to be so mean." They both turned to the nearly-vacant Akira, who appeared to be staring off into space - or at least at some distant point. "Oi, Kunimi." Matsukawa tapped Akira's forehead, dragging him back to the present.

"Sorry," Akira mumbled, trying to figure out what was going on now. 

Matsukawa presented him with a styrofoam box. "It might not exactly be hot when you get back, but... anyway, it's something. We _did_ promise free food, after all."

_Was that a promise?_ With unsure hands, Akira took the box from Matsukawa, and thanked him. "I want to get on before the weather worsens, if that's okay..."

"It's okay! Come back next week, yes?" Hanamaki clasped both his hands and looked almost pleading. Matsukawa just nodded in encouragement.

Overwhelmed by varied emotions, Akira only managed to nod before all but fleeing the area. At first, his hurried footsteps took him in the direction of his apartment, but a thought stopped him. _If I want to sleep, I can do it at Oikawa's place._ He turned slowly on his heel, gripping the styrofoam box a little tighter. _After all, if I go there I can use his microwave for my food._ He started walking again, heading towards the train station. _And if I go there, I won't be alone._ He moved just a little faster now, picking up his feet instead of dragging them. _And..._ he navigated the crowd on the station floor quickly, dodging bodies and thinking only of one thing, _...warmth. If I go there, it will be warm._ He made it onto the train just before the doors closed, and gripped one of the vertical rails firmly as the train began to move.

Though a little breathless by the time he'd reached Oikawa's house, Akira didn't feel so hesitant about being here anymore. He genuinely smiled when Oikawa's mother welcomed him into the house, and walked with purpose down the hall to his room. After knocking a few times, he heard Oikawa acknowledge the sound and pushed open the door. 

"Good afternoon, Oikawa." Akira greeted him when he'd turned around, and Oikawa's eyes lit up with recognition as Akira closed the door behind him.

"It's really great to see you here all the time. I ought to swing by your place one of these days, eh?" Oikawa moved from his desk chair to the wheelchair, and followed Akira as he crossed the room to collapse on the bed. "So, what's the occasion?"

"Just got off of work," _...but maybe Matsukawa already told you that?_ "It wasn't so bad, actually. Perhaps it was just out of habit, but I tidied up the table they have in the back. I don't really like clutter." Before crawling under the covers, Akira placed the styrofoam container on the bedside table, then looked back at Oikawa. "Oh, and they sent that with me. If you don't mind, I'd like it heated later."

"Oh, you won't eat it now?" Oikawa squinted at his watch. "Have you eaten today?"

"Yeah, I actually had breakfast this morning. My neighbor brought me a small quiche. It was really good." _Actually, it's kind of been a strange day._ "I haven't talked about her much, I guess. But she's nice and buys me milk sometimes."

Oikawa nodded, smiling. "Hey, that's a good thing then," he leaned forward to push a stray bang from Akira's face. Akira blinked up at him. "I can braid your hair again later, if you want. Something tells me you wanna take a nap now, though."

"Oh, was it so obvious...?" A little embarrassed, Akira pulled the blankets over his face. "Work was really tiring, even if I didn't do much." _Staying on task has always been difficult for me, though._ "So I hope you don't mind..."

"Nah, you're fine. I'll even put some soft music on for you, if you want." Moving backwards to his desk, Oikawa once again shifted from one chair to the other and woke up his laptop.

"Yes, please." Akira didn't care that the response came so hurriedly. _It's fine if I get to hear music again._ He listened to the first few strains, let his mind go adrift, and soon was fast asleep. 

Some time passed after that, but Akira was awoken by the low sound of Oikawa's voice. The music had been nearly muted, and he realized Oikawa must be on the phone. Still half-asleep, he listened to the one half of the conversation that he could hear. _He sounds like he's enjoying the conversation, whatever it's about._

"Tobio,"

Akira's eyes flew open. It wasn't a name he thought he'd ever hear again, at least not uttered by anyone he knew, and least of all by Oikawa. Now he paid better attention to what was being said.

"Hm, you had to replace your washing machine? Oh, that does sound problematic; they're definitely not supposed to do _that_." He paused as the other responded. "Right, right. Hey, while I'm still thinking about it, I had a question. Have your administrators finished dicking around and picked a date? Really? Hah, they have no shame..."

Akira slowly pushed himself up off the mattress, attracting Oikawa's attention, who waved at him and smiled. He kept talking, so Akira continued to listen.

"Hey, you just let me know when they figure it out. Hahaha, you think so? Well he's normally on top of that stuff. Okay, fine, assuming you get the news before he does, you make me the second person to know, alright? Oho, well obviously. Alright, well thanks for calling! I've been somewhat busy with this and that, but I'm sure you've been working your own butt off training for this practice match. Okay, don't worry about me. Alright yes; I'll do that. Sure thing! 'Till then; bye." Now Oikawa put the phone down on the desk, and glanced back at Akira, who was watching him with intense interest.

After a moment of wordless staring, Oikawa spoke. "Hm, maybe you're wondering who that was...?" As though feeling suddenly nervous, he removed the phone from the desk again and instead placed it in his pocket.

"Kageyama," Akira blurted the name out, and felt ashamed. "I, uh, heard you say his name. So I guess I'm a little - no, a lot - surprised." _When did you two reconnect?_ He watched Oikawa's normally unwavering face go through a myriad of tiny expressions he could not identify. It finally settled on an almost pained smile.

"Ohhh, well; that sure is... a story." Oikawa's hands twisted together. "It's kind of a long story... hah, kind of an old one, too. I guess." He laughed weakly, but his shoulders drooped. "I don't suppose you want to hear about it. I mean, I know you two never really..." He searched for the words, looking lost.

"Never really made peace. No. Not really." _Even Kindaichi seemed to find his own peace, somehow. I could never understand it._ "Not that it really matters. That was then - I want to hear your story. I have lots of time, after all."

For a moment, his brown eyes seemed to darken as memories flashed within them. He visibly stiffened, fingers curling over the arms and becoming taunt. "It's really a kind of... a kind of pathetic thing, maybe." His head turned this way and that, perhaps trying to dispel some confused emotion that lay buried in those memories.

Feeling a little worried, Akira quickly told him, "You don't have to do this, if you don't want to." _It seems like it might be a painful story for you. Maybe I shouldn't have asked..._

"No, no; I do want to, actually. Because he's been really important to me in the last year." He laughed at Akira's incredulous face. "I know; it sounds impossible, considering how much I resented him. It wasn't like I'd stopped resenting him at the time, but... one day, I heard from a friend that he was going to have his first university tournament for volleyball. I guess some part of me naturally felt obliged to go see him play, to find out for myself what that was going to look like. He hadn't been a thought in my mind since losing out on our chance at nationals."

_Nationals. That year feels like it could have been a life time ago._ Sometimes it seemed to Akira that Oikawa's life was just a series of let downs. _I don't get it. How do you keep going?_ He got the sense that, just maybe, there might be an insight here in this story. He let his whole body go still and quiet, unwilling to miss anything.

Oikawa kept going, and slowly, his apprehension began to disappear. "Like, part of me thought it'd be some kind of closure, or something. But that other part that still resented him... it also came with me. I swear I'd gone with good intentions. But I guess... I just got angry." In Akira's mind's eye, he let the story play out like a memory, Oikawa's words becoming visions and images instead...

_As the throng cleared, Kageyama thought he saw a familiar face. Before Oikawa could turn and leave, the younger setter was approaching. Their eyes met, and Oikawa felt compelled to smile, though it was forced and meaningless on his lips. Deep in his chest, ice gathered, and his stomach began tying knots. Kageyama reached him shortly, his expression mainly that of confusion dashed with concern. Oikawa let his eyes fall away from that look._

_"Oikawa-san, what are you... what happened?" His voice contained no malice, and Oikawa winced._

_"Had to come see my kouhai's first big university game, right?"_ He's so much better than I remember. _"Clearly you're lacking for nothing. A regular again, eh? Really, you're... you're..."_ Better than I ever could have been. _His hands gripped the chair's arms._

"Your knee..." Kageyama continued, as though trying to keep the conversation afloat. Oikawa didn't know why he bothered.

"Shit happens, right?" But never to you. _"Sometimes you just... you just don't..."_ I didn't make it. _Oikawa felt his last nerve snap, and he lunged upward, taking Kageyama by surprise and tackling him to the ground. Immediately, pain erupted in his knee, shooting up and down the leg sharply._

_"Kageyama!" A familiarly high voice called over the sudden commotion. Oikawa could feel himself yelling and screaming, losing control, overwhelmed by pain both physical and emotional. Arms and hands were wrestling him away. A flash of bright orange - Hinata pulled Kageyama from the fray._

__No matter how hard I worked, and you're still... __

_Kageyama steadied his stance, and looked back at the mayhem. Sprawled across the ground, Oikawa thrashed and cried out, and the pain was clear on his face. A hand reached, brown eyes focused on something out of his grasp - the wheelchair, pushed away by someone's careless approach. Kageyama broke away from Hinata's hold, crossed the distance, and began to push his teammates away from Oikawa's shaking body. Kageyama curled an arm around his neck and shoulders, bringing Oikawa's head away from the ground. A hand gripped his uniform. Oikawa resisted nothing as he was pulled up and half-dragged, half-carried into his seat. Slumping back, he felt the anger fade into a deeper sadness._

_Soft hands took his shoulders, and Oikawa looked up into storm blue eyes. He raised a fist again, but the hit hardly carried any weight when it met with Kageyama's chest._

_"It's not fair!" His voice broke on the last word._ He knows that! Don't hurt him! __

_"I'm sorry," Kageyama's response was an even-toned murmur._ I wish I could make this better for you. __

_"It's not_ fair! _"_ Why are you apologizing? Now what did I do to deserve that? __

_"I'm so sorry, Oikawa."_ I want you to know I never wished ill on you. You deserved better! __

_"Why? Why was it always you_ and not me? _" His last fist uncurled and became claws, gripping at the damp fabric of Kageyama's uniform. Sobs wracked his body, every part of him breaking under the weight of all he felt to be unfair. And here was Kageyama, comforting him despite everything._

_"I don't know,"_ I am so, so sorry. These things were out of our control. _Kageyama knew Oikawa's words were not out of selfishness. It was just indignation._

__Why is it never fair? _That could have been either of their thoughts._

_Kageyama let the fists come until they subsided into grasping desperation. He let the angry shouts become lost in tears and despair. Most of all, he did not let go. For the first time, he understood everything. Maybe it was because Hinata and Karasuno had helped him become less narrow-minded. It could also have been because he'd never seen Oikawa let loose like this before. Whatever it was, he understood it now, and he wanted to make up for the suffering he'd caused, even unintentional as it was. He was reminded of Kindaichi's outburst, all those years ago after their very first practice match. Yet, that had been different - Kindaichi wouldn't let him apologize. Here and now, however, he somehow felt Oikawa needed this validation. He knew also that he was not apologizing for some kind of fault, and he knew that wasn't why Oikawa wanted to hear it._ I'm not sorry for something that I did. I'm sorry for the way things are. I think we both realize that. _He only hoped it would be enough._

_A shuffling sound and movement in his peripheries told Kageyama that Hinata had drawn nearer. He said nothing, just held Oikawa a little tighter, and closed his eyes as the sobs became wails._

__I don't understand. I don't understand this at all. _Oikawa's mind was a mess of confusion, while anger and sadness wrestled each other for control. The broken part of him told him it needed this comfort, that it was welcome. The self-loathing said he didn't deserve it, and all the suffering was well-earned. Shaking free of these conflicting thoughts, he focused on the present and the immediate past._

_Oikawa pressed the other boy away suddenly, and tried to regain his breath and some composure. He took the tissue offered to him wordlessly, cleared his nose, but could not stem the tide of tears. He pushed forward anyway. "Kageyama, y-you... I'm sorry... I swear I m-meant... I didn't mean t-to..." He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to think. "I wanted to wish you well. I wanted to say I was sorry. But I'm honestly just so..."_

_"Indignant?" The boy supplied, dark eyes staring out at him with a warmth Oikawa could not understand. "I get it. I really do. You worked so hard, from when I knew you then and from then onward. Yet, here you are in this chair, and here I am on the court. No one can tell me that you deserve that."_

_There was that tightness again, threatening to turn his chest into a black hole. Oikawa struggled to breathe._ He's really grown up. He's so much older than I remember. When did he get so grown up? _He nodded helplessly, pulled a little harder on Kageyama's shirt, then realized how tight he was gripping, and released some of the fabric, embarrassed._ Have some restraint. That's the key here. __

_"Hey, let's move out of this busy place and step outside," Hinata's honey-tone voice carried over the white noise of the surrounding gymnasium. Both Kageyama and Oikawa said "yes". Kageyama noticed Oikawa's hands were reaching again, seemingly unsure of what they sought, so he took one in his own, and let his former rival hold on tight as he pleased. Hinata pushed the wheelchair, and the three of them moved silently out the doors to find a quiet place to sit and talk._

_"It was in my third year of university," Oikawa explained, voice still gummy from crying. "Nothing seemed to lead up to it. We were playing one of our last games of the season. I went for my first serve, nothing out of the ordinary, but when I landed... I guess something just finally gave way." The story felt so underwhelming, lacking a real explanation for why it had happened. Oikawa could have lived knowing the 'why', but there wasn't one. It had just happened, without a reason._

_"What happened to Iwaizumi?" Hinata asked, a little too casually, causing Kageyama to wince._

_However, mentioning Iwaizumi seemed to brighten Oikawa's face a little. "We went to different universities, but that didn't stop him from catching the first flight available to be with me for the surgery." Kageyama relaxed, and Oikawa managed a small smile at Hinata. "Don't you worry about us. Hajime would never leave me."_

_"That's a relief," Hinata nodded in exaggerated affirmation, "but he probably can't be around all the time, right?"_

_Oikawa shifted uneasily in his seat. "Er, well that's true of course... he's still playing after all, and his practice regimen is so much more demanding than any university schedule might be."_

_Hinata and Kageyama shared a look. "Why don't I give you my number?" Kageyama finally offered, much to Oikawa's surprise._

_"You...? You want to keep me company?" His fingers twisted uncertainly in Kageyama's grasp._

_"We're busy also, but not as busy as Iwaizumi! The least we can do is call and check in on you, right?" Oikawa glanced over at Hinata, who chirped the words as if it were all a very obvious solution. They were simple people, Oikawa reflected._

_"Dumbass, don't make him nervous." Kageyama growled. He crouched now by the wheelchair and let go of the hold for a moment to pull his phone from his own bag._

_"Ahh..." Oikawa rubbed his damp eyes until he was seeing colors on the backs of his eyelids. Without removing his hands, he asked, "can you pull my cell out of my backpack? It's in the small pocket on the front."_

_"Sure, I can do that!" Hinata went around the back of the chair and found the cell quickly. By that time, Kageyama had retrieved his own._

_"Alright, so I'll just put my number onto your phone, okay?" When Oikawa only nodded, face still covered by his hands, Kageyama went ahead and did just that._

_At last, Oikawa's hands fell away, and he squinted into the blurry light of the afternoon sun. This was really happening, but none of it felt real. Then, Kageyama took his hand again. Oikawa fixed his still-focusing gaze on the boy's dark eyes, and tried to steal the calm from them for himself._

_"You just call whenever you want to, okay? And I hope you don't mind if I call to check in, as well. Because I'm going to. Okay?"_

__Those eyes have always been so honest. He had always been so young to me. But he doesn't look young anymore...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh my main goal with this chapter was to get some water works going, hehe, but it's fine if you remained dry faced too. As I mentioned in the earlier notes, I wrote this scene out of order with the chronological order of the events in the story. This is typically how I work; I find it easier to write the most vivid, key scenes first before going back to write connecting and transition scenes.
> 
> Both the prologue and the flashback relate to the years prior to Oikawa and Kunimi meeting. I've done a lot of writing about what Oikawa's life was like after the accident and before he met Kunimi. Maybe I'll write Oikawa's story one day, too, but even if I don't, I can at least share the writing pieces I've created in the past 8 months or so that these characters came to life in my mind. In the meantime, my focus should be adding chapters. I'll try to get another one after this in today as well!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, and if you've reached this end note, I hope you're having a wonderful day! And if you're not having a wonderful day, I hope maybe this story will help you through the hard times once it's finished. It's done the same for us, many times. Take care now, and be well. <3


	7. Something to Believe In || Augustana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short chapter! Since Autumn Wanderer was not originally written to be divided into chapters, I had to go back and find seams in the writing where it could be parsed. We'd picked 13 chapters to be the total chapters, so I also had to calculate how to evenly divide ~40k words into 13 chunks while still keeping each chapter unified. So some are longer, some are shorter. Hopefully not a problem though! We're nearly halfway to the finish now; hope you enjoy the rest!

"He called me every day after that. Sometimes twice in the same day. I never answered." Oikawa turned in his desk chair, looking anywhere but at the only other person in the room.

"You seem to be on speaking terms now," ventured Akira, thinking back to the earlier phone call.

"Oh, sure. I mean, I answered _eventually_ , of course," he stopped moving, stared hard at the floor, and continued speaking, "I just didn't have it in me, at first. Somehow, even picking up the phone didn't seem like something I could manage."

Akira's heart jumped as the words rang with him. _I understand completely._ He pulled the blankets tighter around his frame. "How did you do it, then?"

Oikawa shifted out of his desk chair and into the wheelchair, grunting as he did so. "Well, one of those phone calls came around 11pm. It was the third time he'd called me that day. Maybe I was just too tired to care either way. So I answered it." He rolled slowly over to join Akira. "Although, I didn't say anything at first. But he kept talking anyway. I guess I felt I owed something to his persistence. But it was all the better for me in the end." His sentences were clipped, the tone suggesting something between shame and regret.

_Why does it kind of sound like you were a lot like me...?_ He played back what he'd been told, trying to take it all in as thoroughly as possible. _You weren't always this happy. There was a time before this present._ He shivered. _I didn't think Kageyama had that kind of side to him. But... people change, don't they?_

With a brief squeak from the chair, Oikawa popped off his seat and shuffled onto the mattress. "Well, anyway, we've been waiting for this practice match to get scheduled for a while, but the committee in charge is kind of incompetent so we still don't have a set date," He stretched, yawning in an exaggerated fashion. "You're welcome to come, if you like. Actually, I'd love it if you came." His eyes fixed on Akira, the brown of the irises looking almost black in the low light, apart from small reflections of caramel.

Still tired and a little caught off-guard, it took a moment for Akira to take in what Oikawa had offered. "O-oh, you mean... you're inviting me to see one of his matches?" _I don't know if I can face him. Maybe when I still had my dignity-_ He stopped the thought there, scolding himself. _If Oikawa could do it, and at the place that he was, then... there's no reason I shouldn't at least try_. "I don't see why not. It's been a long time since I've been in a gym, never mind watched a match."

Akira watched as Oikawa's eyes grew wide and a smile erupted on his face. "Ah, really? That's great!" He leaned back, putting his hands behind his neck for support.

"Why so excited? I'm sure you've already seen a lot of his matches." Still watching Oikawa carefully, Akira lay down on his side, finding his blanket wrappings increasingly difficult to move in. Oikawa laughed at him as he rocked, trying to get an arm loose.

"Ah well, it's my favorite sport after all. And you're one of my favorite people. Sooo, seems like the two naturally combine to make me really happy." He laughed harder when Akira sputtered in embarrassment, his struggles compounded by his flustered response. "Aw, was that too much?"

Akira rolled onto his back, defeated. "I hardly think this is a time for flirting when your blankets are literally suffocating me."

"Huh? Flirting? And I distinctly recall you doing the blanket thing all to yourself!" Crossing his arms, Oikawa tipped his chin into the air in his typical overly-dramatic way. After a moment of holding the pose, he allowed himself to glance down, an expression of worry loosely masked on his face. "Do you maybe need help getting out of that?"

Once untangled and sitting upright beside Oikawa, Akira's mind drifted back to the offer. He'd agreed to go, and he wasn't about to go back on his word, but he was still nervous. _If I only go for Oikawa's sake, he'll be upset._ If he did, Oikawa's perceptive nature would pick up on it eventually, and Akira would only regret it. _I have to face this again. To move forward again. I promised I'd try to do that much._ Feeling curiously resolute, Akira sighed gently, and leaned into Oikawa's shoulder.

"I can't stay overnight," puffed out Akira with a sigh, "I need some time to, uh..." He didn't really want to admit that today had completely taken it out of him. For most people, this kind of day would have been a breeze. He looked up when Oikawa put an arm around him.

"If you need to rest, it's okay. Take as much time as you need for yourself." He smiled sympathetically. "I need days alone and at home, too. For my body's sake, anyway - my mind tends to get overactive if I stay still for too long." He hummed in thought. "Guess I've just always been able to focus mind and body on one thing, and now... everything's out of sync."

"I'm sorry to hear that... I hope your mind can find peace one day." Akira leaned further into the half-hug, feeling the warmth of Oikawa's body and trying not to grow drowsy again before he needed to depart.

Oikawa nodded, starting to look a little distant. "Thank you; that means a lot to me." He rubbed Akira's back and gave him a squeeze.

The warmth, the comfort of the hug, the gentle sounds of the music just barely audible through their quiet... "Hmm, but you're going to put me to sleep right here..." Akira complained, though he was smiling where Oikawa couldn't see him.

"Oh!" He froze all movement, and began to laugh. "Right, right; we were just saying how you needed to go home and get some rest."

"Apartment," mumbled Akira, "my apartment." He moved away from the embrace now, stretching his arms above his head, before glancing back to Oikawa. Then a sudden memory hit him, of Matsukawa, the first day Oikawa had found him. _So that's it then. I don't feel I have a home. He... recognized that? Surely not?_ He didn't let his mind linger on it too much, though, afraid it would chase away the pleasantness of the afternoon spent here in Oikawa's house. _This is more a home to me, anyway._

Oikawa stretched as well, twisting his back until something popped. Akira winced, but hoped he hadn't noticed. "I'll give you a call when I hear word from Kagayama about the scheduling of the match. Sound good?" He rose, limped to the desk chair, and sat down, all the while doing his best to keep his eyes on Akira.

"Mhm, sure," he yawned. "See you soon," Akira added, smiling when Oikawa gave him an enthusiastic wave. He rose, went to the door, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna be the last chapter for today; i'm wiped. please enjoy! thank you again x100 for reading!
> 
> [[EDIT]] It's been a long time since I wrote - and last read - this story, and I keep coming across typos and html code issues. Ah, well. Editing it now; better now than never.


	8. Nothing Left to Say / Rocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of a chapter update yesterday; I wasn't feeling my best and I head to head out of the house in the afternoon, coming back pretty late in the evening.
> 
> So! This is the middle right here! Just six more chapters after this one and the story will be complete. This is... such a good chapter... makes my heart clench thinking about it. Gonna be hard going over it to do the html editing for italics; there's no way I won't cry...

A little under a week later, Akira got the call. Two days after that, he was meeting Oikawa at the train station. And an hour later, he found himself standing in a place he never thought he'd return to. The university was large, and not unlike the one he'd attended; all the familiar sights, sounds, and smells were there, too. The worst was yet to come.

Entering the gymnasium was like awaking into a surreal dream. The crowds of people, rushing to find a seat, and the players on the court, warming up before the game; he was transported back to a time when that had been him out there. _Only, we'll both be in the stands._ It was starting to sink in for Akira just how hard it must have been for Oikawa to return to a place like this, and be faced with someone whom he'd always, in his heart, felt was better than himself. Akira reached for his sleeve, but tried not to make eye contact with Oikawa when he looked up.

"Oikawa-san!" A familiar voice rang out over the din, causing Oikawa to snap in that direction, a wide smile spreading across his face. He picked up the pace, forcing Akira to half-jog alongside him just to keep up.

_It really is him. He looks older, but... mostly the same._ Kageyama hurried over, his dark eyes glowing with joy and an actual smile on his face - not one of those intimidating grimaces he sometimes made when asked to smile. He'd kept the same haircut, which was hardly surprising - he could be indecisive at times, if his difficulty with the vending machine was any indication. He looked broader, and taller too, since Akira had last played him, all the way back in high school. At last, Kageyama slowed and stopped when he reached Oikawa, and for the first time, he appeared to notice the tag-along Oikawa had brought.

"Kunimi," he stammered, looking bewildered. "Oh. Oikawa did tell me you were coming. Or might be coming." He anxiously looked back to Oikawa, avoiding Akira's face.

Akira didn't respond. Not just because he didn't want to, but because he didn't know how. There _were_ things he wanted to say. _You hurt me back then. Did I hurt you, too?_ He wrestled with his emotions while the two of them talked.

"So they finally got their shit together, huh?" Oikawa was saying, resting his chin on his hand.

"Mm, that's right. Oh, and Shouyo was the one that told me about the schedule. It drives me bonkers that he's always so on top of those things. I mean, how does he even know?" At the mention of Hinata's name, he turned around to glare back at the court. Akira looked too, and sure enough, he spotted that fiery mane the boy called hair, practicing receives with the other players.

_So they went to the same university, I guess. I wonder if that was something else that ached inside of Oikawa - that he and Iwaizumi were apart, at the end._

"You know how he is; too impatient to wait for the official reports. One of your former teammates works with the committee, correct? He probably just asks him." The bemused look Oikawa gave him seemed to go unnoticed by Kageyama.

Kageyama stiffened in shock. "Shit, you're right! Asahi-san is the one you're thinking of. Actually, I think he's here today." He again turned to scan the court in search of the man in question.

Akira noticed that Oikawa suddenly went pale. "O-oh, is he now?" _Still smiling, but he doesn't mean it._ "Well, you know Tobio-chan, we ought to get to our seats and you need to warm up with the others, so, we'll see you after the game!" Before Kageyama could respond, Oikawa had made a 180-turn and was moving off towards the stands, leaving Akira standing awkwardly with Kageyama for a moment.

They looked at each other nervously. He shifted to look after Oikawa, frowned, then said, "Er, you should maybe go with him..." Kageyama was bouncing backward as he spoke, getting ready to turn around and... _run away?_ It was almost as though they'd both fled, for one reason or another.

_Why are you running away from me? Shouldn't I be the one trying to escape?_ It wasn't that he didn't feel uncomfortable around his former teammate, a person who had been the first to call him lazy. Akira turned on his heel, and walked off towards the stands, in search of Oikawa. _They have wheelchair accessible spots, I think. Ah, yes; there he is._

When Akira approached him, he was watching the court tensely. _Was it something Kageyama said?_ Akira found a seat next to him, but didn't say anything. There was enough on his mind already. Looking back out at the court, Akira idly sought out Kageyama, and watched how he moved among his teammates. His eyes widened as he finally noticed the number on the uniform. _He's a captain?_ Akira wasn't sure he could think of a worse candidate for captain if he tried. But then again, he and Kindaichi had both been shocked the first time they'd played against him and Karasuno. _You still got angry with your partner, but... there was definitely something strange and different about you._ The game was starting, and the players took their positions. _Kindaichi spoke with you, but I..._ Kageyama set the ball in motion with a powerful serve that earned his team the first point of the match. Akira pulled his legs up and tried to become small. _I never got that closure._

It hadn't mattered how many times they'd played each other throughout the rest of high school. The last thing he'd said to Kageyama had been after Aoba Johsai's defeat by Karasuno, Oikawa's last match against his former underclassman. He'd only been trying to act as a buffer between Kageyama and Kindaichi. Akira desperately tried to flush these memories away; he couldn't bear to think about his friend - former friend - anymore.

Though he'd been clearly upset at the start, Oikawa quickly grew more and more excited as the game carried on, cheering at every point Kageyama's team scored. It wasn't clear if he was talking to himself out of habit or if he was really aware that Akira was there, but Oikawa kept up a continuous stream of elated commentary. Akira noticed pride occasionally entered his tone, which was the most surprising of all. It made him wonder just how much their relationship had changed since even high school.

There was hardly a competition given the highly dynamic style of play utilized by Kageyama's team, and the game concluded at two sets with the team taking the win. Oikawa actually leaped from his wheelchair, prompting Akira to rise quickly after him and urge him to sit back down again. He subsided, but he still looked so happy even Akira couldn't help but smile at his infectious enthusiasm.

"Do you want to go down there...?" Akira asked, though he was unsure if he himself wanted to follow. _But you'll do it anyway,_ he reminded himself grimly. Where Oikawa went, he always followed.

"Yes!" Without waiting for further comment, Oikawa raced down the access ramp, throwing his hands up in excitement while gravity took him the rest of the way.

Akira took a deep breath, and tagged along at a much slower pace. He wanted to watch first, curious to see if whatever had bothered Oikawa would come up again. Oikawa sped onto the court, and was quickly joined by Kageyama and Hinata. Akira drew closer, listening carefully. The pair looked as though they could play another two sets if they so wished, while the rest of the team collapsed onto benches and gulped down water. Kageyama wiped his face with a towelette as Hinata enthused about the match, arms flying inches apart from the side of Kageyama's head, but he didn't seem to mind.

A flurry of movement in Akira's periphery drew his attention to an approaching group of two other strangers, though they were all oddly familiar. This was when he noticed Oikawa become uncomfortable again, and in a moment, he knew why.

"Ah, Asahi-san, you didn't tell me Noya-san was coming today." Kageyama turned to address the newcomers, his face an unreadable mask, but his tone sounded pleased rather than upset. His emotions never seemed to sync well with his face, gestures, and voice.

"He sort of didn't tell me, either; I'm sorry." Asahi rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. "It's okay, right?"

"It better be okay; you guys were amazing out there and I'm so thrilled to be here!" Nishinoya hopped around Kageyama and around to Hinata, who started hopping with him in excitement. "You destroyed them!" The two jumping beans suddenly launched skyward, as if on some unspoken cue, and clapped their hands together with a shout. "I missed like two lectures for this! Sooo worth it!"

"Oi, don't be so obnoxious, dumbass; you'll blow someone's eardrums out like that one day." Kageyama placed both hands on Hinata's shoulders, as though trying to force him back to earth. Hinata giggled at him, but nodded anyway.

Throughout all of this, it was almost as if Oikawa was afraid to move. His eyes followed every movement critically, and he said nothing. The fake smile looked like plastic to Akira. _He doesn't want to get noticed, maybe? Doesn't seem very much like Oikawa. He loves being the center of attention._ His ruse didn't work, though, as eventually Asahi turned to look at him more carefully.

"Don't I know you?" He prompted, looking puzzled as he wracked his memories for a name to the face. Nishinoya jumped in before he could finish his train of thought.

"Oh yeah! You're the _grand king_ right?" Joked Nishinoya, certain his former teammates would remember Hinata's cute nickname, but it earned him an icy reaction from both Kageyama and Hinata. Startled, he said in a quieter voice, "...right?"

Squaring his shoulders and putting on a smile, Oikawa was the only one to laugh, saying, "No, you got me. How could you forget Aoba Johsai's beautiful setter and captain, Oikawa Tooru?" He gave a slight bow, one hand on his chest for dramatic flair. The effect was physically painful for those who knew him best, as it was clear he was only mocking himself.

For those who didn't, it appeared as though he was laughing _with_ Nishinoya, and without a hint of irony. The tension eased a little, but Kageyama still watched Oikawa's face with unusual sharpness. Asahi's expression changed to bewilderment as he stepped back once to take in this unexpected sight. Despite his smile and cool attitude, Oikawa was squirming under those looks of pity and shock. Akira finally understood his discomfort.

"You- what happened?" An innocent question, but how it burned against Oikawa's grief.

"Shit happens you know. It's a dangerous sport; I mean, it can be." He rolled forward and backward. "Take it from me." The smile curled into something closer to a snarl. _Angry eyes,_ Akira thought with a shiver.

"Well uh, I think you can't stay long Asahi-san, no?" Heads turned as Hinata spoke up, smiling cheerily and rocking on his heels. "And we have some plans for celebration, if you don't mind letting us go to get showered and dressed."

As the two said their farewells, Akira settled into deeper thought. He remembered the bathroom, all those seemingly frivolous beauty products kept orderly on the counter. No matter what he did to his image, though, he could never escape the obvious, and it would be all anyone ever saw, had they known him before. Once that great icon, the "grand king", now a cripple without a future in the sport he'd once excelled at. _It must eat at him. I mean, he described coming to that match but... I guess I sort of see it now..._

Kageyama gave Oikawa an apologetic look. "I'm sorry about that. They didn't mean any harm, you know." He tilted his head to try and see Oikawa's face as the other glanced aside, his smile fading into an ache as he tried to exhale the indignation.

"Please join us for the celebration!" Hinata piped up, clasping one of Oikawa's hands. He looked up, startled, before peering back at Akira. Hinata's eyes followed. "He can come too; don't worry." 

Shrinking under Hinata's bright gaze, Akira fidgeted nervously and tried to scoot back behind Oikawa's wheelchair. He looked down as Oikawa craned his head back to look up. Upon seeing Akira, he smiled.

"Hanamaki and Matsukawa might need help in the kitchen with the whole team over. Maybe you'd like to lend them a hand?" He reached up with the fingers not secured by Hinata's grip and tapped Akira's nose lightly. Akira's eyelids fluttered in surprise, and he flushed when Oikawa laughed at him. "Well, what do you say? A hot meal, good company... I mean, I'm gonna be there. Is there better company than me?"

"No," Akira conceded, "perhaps not." _There's certainly... worse company though._ He tried not to look at Kageyama's face as he thought this. He hung back behind the three as they threaded their way towards the locker room, a quick stop to wash up and change before the party. _No one told me anything about a celebration. Why did I agree to come again?_ They stopped at the doors and Oikawa let the two players continue without him before he allowed himself to drop his shoulders with an exhausted sigh.

Akira's brows pricked up. "Is everything alright?" He crouched at Oikawa's side, placing a hand on the arm of the chair gingerly. 

"There are still... many regrets I hold." Oikawa mumbled, barely audible over the loud din of the gymnasium. "Do you want to know a secret?" His eyes shifted sideways, deep and dark and full of hurt.

Akira swallowed, feeling a tremor pass through him. "Only if you want to share it." Stretching out his fingers, he tried to reach for the hand in Oikawa's lap, and smiled when the other reached back without hesitation.

"The truth is... well, I did get hurt. It was pretty bad, too. The doctors said I'd never be able to play again." He brought his other hand to his lips, as if he hardly wanted to hear the story himself. "But I could have walked again, if I'd wanted to."

_What?_ Akira didn't want to interrupt, fearing Oikawa would lose steam and decide not to continue.

"But the thing is, I _didn't_ want to. I didn't want to do anything anymore. I thought that if I couldn't play, there wasn't any point at all to... to..." His jaw clenched and brows furrowed. Akira felt the grip on his hand tighten. "I just gave up, okay? I didn't go to therapy, I didn't even _try_ to heal. I just lay around in bed all day, every week, for _weeks_ , months maybe. I quit, and now I gotta suffer for it. I let myself down. Big time." Despite the hand that covered his face, Akira could still see the tears dripping off the end of his nose.

_What comfort could I possibly offer him?_ The thought made Akira's heart shudder. He focused on their clasped hands, stuck between feeling angry and feeling nothing. It wasn't anger with Oikawa - it was sympathy for his fate. _What did he do to deserve this? Could there be anyone less deserving of this kind of outcome?_

Swiping the tears away with the back of his sleeve, Oikawa took a deep breath and tried to straighten his shoulders. "It's pretty awful, isn't it? Stupid, even. I got dealt a bad card, but I just had to go and flip the table, didn't I?" He actually chuckled, causing Akira to look up again. "I'm never going to stop regretting that, but you know what? I'm okay with it."

"You're... you're okay with it?" Spluttered Akira, thinking the impression he'd gotten from Oikawa told a different story. "How?"

"You and me are here now, aren't we?" He smiled at Akira - a real one this time. "I can't complain about that. I made some bad decisions but somehow or other, they've lead me to this point in time, and this place, and to you. So I just have to try and look at the bigger picture if I don't want to completely sink into despair."

"Oikawa-san! We're all ready to depart when you are." Kageyama's team gathered behind him, chattering excitedly about the match, as well as what they wanted to order at the restaurant. Food was obviously just as exciting to a university student as it was to high school kids.

Turning to face him, Oikawa grinned. "Sounds good! Well, no time to waste; let's celebrate!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene where Oikawa tells Kunimi about neglecting himself after the injury was an impromptu addition I made while in the final phase of writing the full story. I had written the gymnasium scene already, and I needed to connect it with the upcoming chapter. Originally, the scene after the game where Oikawa speaks with the Karasuno alumni flowed directly into the next chapter, but while editing and writing bridges between key scenes I was inspired to add in this important conversation. 
> 
> Anyway, sorry again for the delayed posting! It's 4:23am right now... I felt bad and wanted to post something. Look forward to (hopefully) 2 more chapters when I wake up again!? Fingers crossed! Thank you for reading; you're awesome and I hope the weather's lovely wherever you are right now. And if you're a homebody, may your internet connection never fail you. Cheers!


	9. Atlantic || Swallowed in the Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another somewhat short chapter, but still a good one in my opinion. We'll be having guests over this afternoon so hopefully I can get another chapter out after this.

It was back to the train station and another long ride, but Akira slept through most of it. Oikawa woke him one stop before theirs, and Akira forced himself to try and look alert. Throughout the train car, Kageyama's team sat or stood, talking or resting, some alone in their thoughts, others clustered around each other in small groups. Kageyama and Hinata sat together closer to Oikawa, where they appeared to be bickering. The atmosphere suddenly felt strange, and Akira hoped the trip would end soon.

With relief, he stepped off alongside Tooru at the station, thankful for the fresh air. However, the weather was turning, and the air felt colder than ever, heavy with the promise of precipitation. He shivered when the wind blew fiercely against him, clutching for Oikawa's hand and wishing he'd remembered to bring his gloves. _I always forget to check the forecast, and I didn't think to ask anyone._

Most of the team ran ahead, eager to get inside where it'd be warmer, but Kageyama and Hinata kept at Oikawa's pace. Since Akira held Oikawa's hand, Hinata had offered to push the chair. _They really are good to him,_ Akira thought slowly. _It still makes me wonder about the whole story, but... that will have to come in time._ It was then that Akira considered he couldn't be sure just _how_ much time he'd have to wait. That meant staying much longer than he'd planned. It meant holding on. It meant giving a lot more than just 10%. Somehow, though, these realizations didn't bother him. And he thought, _If that's the case, then what's holding me back from finding my peace?_ His gaze traveled carefully to the back of Kageyama's head, and he squeezed Oikawa's hand just a little tighter.

His resolutions would need to wait, however. The restaurant was bustling, as Oikawa had predicted it'd be, and so Matsukawa and Hanamaki swept him into the kitchen before he'd had a chance to ask Oikawa for his thoughts. They had him prepare pots and pans, clean kitchen utensils, and keep their work space clean and tidy while they kept up with the dozens of orders coming their way. He became so busy himself, he could hardly even be overwhelmed, and instead fell into a steady rhythm of work.

But he'd not been forgotten. Outside the kitchen, Kageyama approached Oikawa, Hinata at his side. "We've been talking," he began, failing to make a real introduction into the topic of conversation he'd chosen. Oikawa didn't mind, though - he'd finally learned how to navigate his former underclassman's unusual patterns of speech and behavior. "It's, uh, about Kunimi. I want to talk to him. I feel like there's a lot we've left unsaid, for far too long now."

Curious as to where Kageyama was going with this, Oikawa nodded, encouraging the other to continue. He took a seat beside Oikawa, folding his hands in his lap and staring down at them hard. "I didn't go to any of the power schools because I didn't get a recommendation from my coach. I didn't figure it out at first, but it was because of Kunimi and Kindaichi. They got sick of... well, you know. I was benched after that." His face screwed up, and his folded hands clenched into fists. "So after I realized that, I was kind of angry at first."

Oikawa lifted a thin brow. "I can see why. You could have been playing among some of the best, including Shiritorizawa. Much as I despise them, of course." His nose scrunched up at a thought. "But, didn't you pick Karasuno because of Coach Ukai?"

"Hold on, hold on; that's not why I was angry. Actually, angry might not even be the right word for it. I thought at first my teammates needed to match me, and my tosses. I felt betrayed when they let that toss drop..." He thought back to the moment and winced.

He waved a hand, as if to try and move the conversation along. "Ah, Coach Ukai. Well, yeah; call it a contingency plan. But... that fell through when I learned he'd been hospitalized. So at the time I figured I was just stuck with what I got." He rocked. "I'm probably sounding ungracious, but that's the point I'm trying to get to," taking a deep breath, he relaxed his shoulders and stretched out his fingers. "Shouyo reminded me that it was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. I was stupid and conceited, thinking it was my power alone that could equal a team of six. Karasuno changed all of that. Shouyo changed all of that." He glanced up now at Oikawa's face, which hadn't changed much since he'd begun talking.

"Hmmm," Oikawa hummed thoughtfully, "so what you're saying is, you forgive him?" He laughed, earning him a sharp punch to the shoulder. "What?"

"Not just that!" Kageyama growled, dark eyes lighting up with a spark of indignation. Oikawa hushed at the sight of it. "Of course I want to apologize, too. Kindaichi didn't want to hear it from me. But Kunimi's different; I know it. I know how stuff eats him alive. Hindsight is a bitch, though." He spat the last words, glowering down at the floor now.

Oikawa blinked, rubbing his shoulder. "Alright. I see. Then, do you want to talk to him now?" He reached down and unlocked the breaks on his chair, still maintaining his gaze on Kageyama.

The younger boy looked up. "Well, preferably before he slips away..." They both glanced back to the kitchen, where Matsukawa and Hanamaki could be seen by the counter.

"He's still here," Oikawa said with confidence, "just follow me; I'll go get him." He rolled towards the little door at the side of the counter, stood up slowly, and pushed open the door. Heat and the strong odors of spices wafted over him, but he tried to focus on each step as he limped towards the kitchen counter where Akira was standing, wiping down the surface with a cloth.

"Hey Oikawa, what do you think you're doing?" Hanamaki had turned away from the stove tops to see his friend making a pained journey across the kitchen. At the mention of the name, Akira's head jerked around, and his eyes went wide when he saw Oikawa smiling back at him, though his face was creased with the effort.

"Hey Akira, can we talk?" Akira didn't need an invitation to come rushing over, looping and arm around Oikawa and helping him back to the little door.

"Of course, but you could have just gotten their attention- oh." The door swung shut behind them, and Akira found himself staring into Kageyama's deep blue eyes. He couldn't help it - an instinctive fear bloomed in his chest at the meeting of that intense gaze, but he fought it hard, swallowed it, tried to inflate himself instead with a kind of power all his own.

"Hey, Kunimi," Kageyama began, his voice uncertain despite the sureness of his face.

_I can do this,_ Akira told himself, and felt as though he were whispering against a storm inside his chest. _I am stronger than I was,_ he thought at first. _No, I have always been this strong._ He gathered all the courage he could muster, tried to stand tall, to feel present, and faced Kageyama with as much dignity as he could find within him.

"I also have something I want to say," Akira's voice was soft, but it didn't waver. 

He watched Kageyama's face change to uncertainty. "O-oh, is that so... is it alright if I speak first? It's... taken long enough for me to say it..." His eyes drifted down to his feet.

Akira took a deep breath."If you're going to say it, say it to my face." _I want you to look at me. I want you to see me, like you never did before. See my fortitude. See that it was never my shortcomings but your failure to accommodate that made things as they were._

The gaze lifted again. "Right," he replied with a nod. "Kunimi, I'm... I'm sorry."

A great weight fell away from Akira's chest, and he let his eyes drift close. "Hmmm." _This feels like validation..._ He opened them again as he began to speak. "What I wanted to say... I just wanted to talk about what happened towards the end..."

"Ah, wait!" Kageyama suddenly stopped him, arms flapping anxiously. "This is about what went down between you, Kindaichi, and coach; right?" He shifted his weight to one foot, and glanced hurriedly over his shoulder, as if searching for someone.

Akira tried not to let the interruption cause him to lose momentum, though he was curious as to how Kageyama had caught on so fast. _Either he'd gotten sharper, or he'd been giving this conversation a lot of thought._ Akira could guess the latter was more likely.

"Right, well I was just saying this to Oikawa-san, but it's like this: it's not your fault because you have nothing to be at fault for. You didn't do anything wrong - you or Kindaichi." He hazarded a small smile, though given his inability to force genuine looking-smiles, it appeared more a grimace. "You see, Hinata pointed it out to me. I didn't suffer for your decision. I grew from it, and I gained a lot." His hands clenched by his sides and he puffed out his chest. "So don't you dare go apologizing! It's one thing to cause suffering, it's quite another to teach an entitled brat a tough lesson."

Needless to say, Akira found himself gaping in shock as Kageyama finished by calling himself "an entitled brat", or at least as far as Akira could tell, that's what he meant. Oikawa slapped Kageyama's back and laughed when he jumped.

"You really have grown a lot, eh? Big enough to start calling yourself a brat, huh?" He grinned with delight when Kageyama shot him a withering look. "But, look now! You've gone and made him speechless."

Akira shook himself from the spell. "Thank you," the words came out in a rush. He could feel the prickling of tears, but he forced them back, unwilling to cry in front of so many people. Wrapping his arms around his body, he allowed himself to lean against the wall, feeling that the moment was over and finding he was utterly exhausted by it.

"Oh, er, sorry... did any of that even make sense?" Kageyama's features screwed up as he backtracked through his own words, hoping to figure out where he might have gone wrong.

"Yes," Akira shook his head, "that's alright. I understand. Are you really sure...?" _You're not the least bit upset? Surely...?_

An actual smile lit the other boy's face. "I have no regrets and, honestly? What could I have stood to gain otherwise? I wouldn't replace my partner for all the world."

"I see." Twisting his fingers into the fabric of his sweater, Akira glanced back at Oikawa and let himself sink into other thoughts. _I suppose it's about perspective, sometimes. Kageyama hurt me. But I gave him an opportunity. And there's nothing to apologize for there._

"Snow!" A shout by the door drew the attention of the entire room. Hinata was leaping up to see through the window in the door.

Kageyama jogged over to meet him, then frowned. "That's not snow, dumbass; that's sleet." Hinata groaned in disappointment, but Akira noticed that Oikawa suddenly looked distressed.

"We'd better get going soon before it gets worse," he muttered, half to himself, and half to Akira.

"Oh, right." Akira turned to look back into the kitchen. "I need to get my coat, but we can leave after that."

"Hmmm, sure." He moved off towards Kageyama again, and Akira ducked through the kitchen door to fetch his things.

"Getting out before the weather worsens, huh?" Matsukawa called from the counter.

Akira nodded as he scooped his coat from a rack near the desk, and quickly put it on. Matsukawa left the counter to join him, hands folded behind his back.

"You should stay by his side on the way back. He really struggles with times like these." When Akira looked up, he met Matsukawa's serious gaze and paused. "This weather makes the pain worse, and it's frustrating when he can't get out of it fast enough. Just try to keep him calm."

"Calm. Okay." Akira thanked Matsukawa for the advice, and hurried back out to meet with Oikawa, who was waiting by the door and staring into his lap.

"Alright, I'm ready." He touched Oikawa's shoulder gently, and the other looked up.

"Makki lent us an umbrella, but it's a little small, so we'll have to squeeze under it." Oikawa lifted the umbrella from his lap and gave it a shake. "If you could hold it, that would be great."

"Of course," taking it by the handle, Akira followed Oikawa close behind as they exited. They paused under the eaves while he opened the umbrella, before the two took off down the ramp as fast as they could. Akira tried to keep as many things in mind as possible, but it was difficult. Despite both their best efforts, the two were thoroughly cold and quite damp by the time they got to his house. When they reached his front door, they crowded inside without hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ALMOST SOBBED EDITING THIS I forgot it was _that_ chapter hoo boy........ hold tight to your seat folks because my favorite chapter is up next
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Please have a lovely week! I hope you see pretty flowers or cute birds or maybe get to pet a sweet dog or have a cat meow at you. Good things! Take care now!


	10. Across the Universe || Featherstone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my absolute favorite chapter, so I really hope you love it, too. <3

The sleet was turning more solid now, a changing mix of hail and snow coming down hard and thick, and the two were all the happier to be out of it now. Oikawa asked his mother to make them both something hot to drink, before he and Akira disappeared into Oikawa's room to find some blankets to pile under. Perched on Oikawa's swivel chair, Akira let Oikawa wrap him up in the blankets from the bed, welcoming the warmth that began to return to his skin and fingertips.

"Goodness; I made a good call back there, didn't I?" The wheelchair creaked as Oikawa slouched back into it, huffing out a tired breath. "Weather like this is always hardest alone... thanks, Kunimi."

"Sure," Akira told him quietly from his cocoon. "Don't you want to get warm too?"

"Yeah, I'll drink the tea my mom's bringing, but after that, I need to take a bath..." He started moving around the room; first to his dresser where he removed several articles of clothing, then to the bathroom that was attached to his room. Akira watched him as he busied himself, seemingly with much difficulty, turning on the light and laying everything out just so.

His mother came into the room with the hot drinks, and Oikawa re-joined him, smiling amiably. Akira brought the mug to his lips, still watching the other in silence. _I somehow think he wants help._ It was a strange thought, given that Oikawa had said nothing to that effect. _It must be difficult, but he's not telling me._ Akira thought that it was probably hard on Oikawa's knee to get in and out of the tub, but even that was easier than a shower, which would require him to stand.

While Oikawa had been talking, it was eventually clear that Akira was not listening. So he stopped, and waited for Akira to notice. It took a few minutes of quiet, but his eyes cleared and focused again, now an expression of vague curiosity there upon his face.

"Hey, it would be really great if... you could help me, you know... with the bath." Oikawa was smiling, but it obviously pained him to be asking. As hard as it was for him to perform these simple tasks, asking for help seemed almost harder.

_You're not weak for needing help,_ was all Akira could think. "Okay. I can do that."

"Ah, really...? You don't think that's, uh, weird or anything?" Still smiling, but his expression was of doubt and worry.

_You're not as good at hiding things as you once were... or am I just better at reading you?_ "It's not weird at all. We're friends, right? Let me help you." _As you have helped me._

"Thanks, I really appreciate it. Tobio was actually the first person to... to suggest it. Well I mean, he offered to help." His fingers traced circles along the sides of the mug. "He actually went and did research, you know? He wanted to know what kind of things I'd be struggling with; that's what he told me." Oikawa took a long sip from his mug, looking reflective. "So normally he'd do it. So it'd be really great if... if you could do it."

Akira allowed himself a small smile. "Of course." _They must be a lot closer than I even realized. It's actually... kind of sweet._

After they'd drained their tea, and Oikawa had wasted some time insisting he bring the mugs to the sink, Akira accompanied him to bathroom. Oikawa sat first on the toilet, while Akira drew the bath and set up the soaps and things along the edge. He opened one of the cabinets below the sink, and made a puzzled sound.

Oikawa peered around, and chuckled. "Oh, those are bath bombs; haha. Hanamaki likes buying them for me." He smiled fondly, then seemed to have a thought. "Oh, grab that bright blue one! Yeah, that's the one."

Akira held a sky blue, dusty looking ball in one hand, and felt his heart flutter a little. "Do you want to use this one? Should I unwrap the plastic, or...?"

"Why not? Seems appropriate." It was obvious he was still nervous; he rocked back and forth on the seat, his arms wrapped across his chest, but he tried to make light of the situation.

"What's so special about this one that you asked me to pull it out?" Akira tried to take Oikawa's mind off of whatever was bothering him. Peeling the clear plastic away, he kept half his attention on Oikawa, waiting for a reply.

"Don't you recognize that color? I call it, 'Aoba Johsky'." He couldn't hold back a laugh at Akira's disbelieving face, and Akira relaxed a little as Oikawa's body language calmed down.

_That's... an English pun, I think?_ "Ho ho, I'm laughing so much." Akira tried to hide the fact that he was smiling at such a silly, stupid pun. "Do you want it in your bath or not?"

"Oh, right. Yes please!" Oikawa leaned towards the bath, testing the water with his fingers. "It's probably full enough; you ought to turn off the tap now."

Now came the hardest part for Oikawa. Ever so carefully, he undressed. The knee brace came off slowest of all. Akira felt it wasn't pain that made Oikawa look as though he were holding back tears. Finally, Akira helped him into the bath, where Oikawa sank down into the warm, bubbling blue water and let out a sigh that sounded more like defeat than relief.

It was Akira's turn to sit, but he felt the toilet seat was not appropriate and elected to sit on the floor with his back to the wall. This way, he and Oikawa faced each other. He wasn't sure if he should be doing more, but Oikawa hadn't asked of him anything yet, so Akira said nothing. The gentle sounds of sloshing water and fizzing suds were the only noises that filled the silence. Akira felt uncomfortable, but only because he didn't know if he was doing everything right. Was Kageyama usually quiet? Was he only making this awkward by not making conversation?

"Thank you again for this, but if you don't want to be here, I can always call you back..."

"No!" Akira told him with a little more force than normal. "I mean... please. Let me stay, if that's alright with you. I'm only worried I'm making this awkward for you, or something."

"Awkward? For me? No... I lost my dignity a long time ago, as it is." Another long sigh, another false smile. 

"Do you mean in your own eyes?" Akira wanted to tell him that he was still strong. He wanted to say that he still had a proud story to tell. But none of that came out.

"Yeah. In the moment, you think only of what you're losing right in front of you. I always thought about how my career was over, but never of how I'd be sitting in a tub like this, hardly able to get out of it on my own power. Lying in that hospital bed, it was sports, and old feuds, and things that didn't matter. Sitting here... I'd have thrown away all of that just to be able to bathe my own body again."

Akira didn't have anything to say to that. These were things he'd never understand, and things he could make no comment on. But he felt like he wanted to help Oikawa see that this was not all there was to him. _I want you to see yourself how I see you._ And it wasn't that Akira was only thinking of the captain he'd once known, because that boy was long gone, and anyone could see that. Again, however, none of this he shared. He just didn't know how.

It wasn't too much longer that Oikawa had finished. He sat up, wincing and careful not to bend his right knee too much. After moving, he would stop and rest, breathing carefully. Finally, he'd positioned his back against the side of the tub, and brought up his arms to rest on the edge. Akira waited, almost breathless, for him to speak.

"Okay. Please help me." A straightforward request, said without hesitation.

_He finally said it,_ the thought made butterflies take wing inside his stomach; a quiver of affection and pride. _There's no reason to be ashamed of helplessness._

Akira took the towel off the rack, wrapped it around and over Oikawa's shoulders, and pulled him up and out of the water. He wasn't that strong, but he put in every ounce of strength he had to keep the other up. _There was a time when you helped me muster my own power._ Slowly he lowered Oikawa onto the toilet seat again, where he'd set another towel previously. _It's okay to depend on others. Let me give back to you._ He watched Oikawa's face carefully, how the eyes were so dark with hurt they seemed more shadow than brown. _I'm sorry that you have to suffer like this._ He watched how the other pulled the broad fabric of the towel ever tighter about the shoulders, as if wishing to shrink and vanish from sight. _Please don't disappear. You're worth more than the things that have brought you to your lowest._

Noticing Oikawa's dripping hair, Akira finally turned away from his intense scrutiny to fetch another, smaller towel. When he came back, Oikawa was staring into his lap, shivering. _I am here. Please look up at me._ Akira draped the towel over Oikawa's head, gently applying some pressure to soak up the water. His hands came to rest at the sides of Oikawa's face, and at last those eyes came up to meet his. When they did, the shadows had fled, replaced by a warmth. It took his breath away. _Did I do that?_

"Thanks," Oikawa raised his own hand to push Akira's long bangs behind his ear. "Would it be okay for me to call you Akira?"

_Please do._ Shivering against the bath-hot hand, Akira nodded in response, and continued to massage the towel into Oikawa's scalp to dry it. "I'll go get your change of clothes. Will you...?" _Will you ask for my help again?_

"Need help? No, that's alright. I can do this part, at least, if I'm sitting on the seat. Set that bundle on the counter and go ahead and lie down on my bed if you want. I'll be out in a little while."

_That's okay. I'm already content._ Akira moved away again, somewhat reluctantly, and placed the bundle of clothes a little closer to Oikawa before leaving the bathroom to lie down. The bed was cold compared to the steamy heat of the bathroom, but Akira buried into the blankets and covers without complaint.

The bathroom door opened and Oikawa hobbled out until he reached his wheelchair, where he sat down with a long sigh, throwing his still-damp hair back and humming. Akira watched him from between a comforter and a fold in the bed sheet. It was quiet for a moment, until Oikawa raised his head again to look across the room to where Akira was only partially visible underneath a pile of blankets. He chuckled softly, amused by the sight.

"You wasted no time at all getting comfy, eh?" Oikawa shook his head, smiling. "Hey, you know something?" He didn't continue, so obviously he wanted some kind of response.

Akira regarded the other's expression, but it was once again unreadable. "Well, I probably don't know what you're going to say," he said carefully after a moment's reflection.

The wheelchair went into motion suddenly, before coming to a stop about mid-way from the wall to the bed. "I'm really glad I met you at the shrine. Really glad. Even if I made a fool of myself." He flashed Akira a cheeky grin, but then his face shifted into something more serious. "But you know what? Today, I'd have had to do that all alone if you'd not been there."

Puzzled about where this was all going, Akira slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, eyes still fixed on Oikawa's thoughtful face. "We might have met somewhere else..."

"But I'm not talking about that. It matters. I want to talk about why it matters." He turned to face the blue painting of the sky on his wall. "Stuff like that? It matters. And the things that came before - it matters. You were important to me then, and you're important to me now." His eyes were growing brighter as he spoke. His body was in motion. It was almost as if he were reliving a time before his injury - and maybe he was.

_I want to disagree, but I don't. Didn't I make a difference just now?_

"I was your captain, okay? And you were my teammate. And every member of Aoba Johsai, both regulars and not; each and every one of them mattered. Each and every one of you was a part of an experience, both your own and each other's. You're all inside of my memories. Those were the best three years of my life. And you..." He swiveled around now, fixing Akira with an intense look. "I didn't put 200% into you for nothing. Didn't that mean something to you, too? I know it did. So how can you tell me that it doesn't matter?"

_I still want to say it._ "Was I really all that much to you?" _Come on. You know him. Of course you were._ "Wasn't that just... the past?"

"It _was_ the past! Eventually, everything will be. So if the past doesn't matter, why does the present? Why would the future? It all counts for something. We aren't just particles existing one moment from the next." _Oh no; those words are..._ Oikawa's face was twisted now with passion, tears beading in the corners of his eyes. "We are also our memories and our ambitions. Our past and our future. So that's why the present counts for the most, and how you think and feel about everything, in this moment; it matters." He started to shake, and the tears began falling. "It matters... it has to..." Akira realized he wasn't just telling this to him. He was reinforcing it for himself, from the time before this happiness.

"You're right. I does matter." _I said it? No. I felt it._ He leaned forward and out, reaching away from the covers to rest his fingertips on the arm of the wheelchair. It was all he could reach. Oikawa's warm hand took his cold fingertips, and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"I wanted to say all of this sooner. When you'd mentioned it so offhandedly. You took me off guard, and I was scared and I thought I'd lose you too soon. But I knew it wouldn't mean anything to you then. You wouldn't have believed me then." He shifted closer to Akira's outstretched hand, back bent and neck curved down to rest his forehead against cold knuckles.

_So you showed me instead._ "I'm still glad to hear it. I... always am grateful to hear it." _But he's right. Sometimes I don't believe it._ "Please come closer."

"You can call me Tooru, if you like." He pushed forward, using his good leg as a fulcrum as he left the seat of his chair and crashed halfway into the bed. Akira moved back, but Tooru had not released his hand, and so he wrapped his free arm around the other's abdomen to pull him up onto the mattress.

They stilled. Unsteady breathing became rhythmic again. Akira felt warm again. Gently he pressed closer, and Tooru put an arm around him. It was all becoming hazy now. _I'm sleepy... how typical._ But somehow the thought didn't disgust him. He was warm. He was safe. And no longer was he alone. Somehow, it was okay. The two drifted asleep, comforted by one another and the gentle thoughts that filled their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've definitely reached the point where every chapter from here on out is going to make me cry just editing and formatting them... //lies down :')
> 
> The last conversation they have was another impromptu scene written during my finishing phase of writing/editing; the part where I connect the key scenes together. Besides, I wanted to tie it into their earlier conversation about "why it matters", because it was something Oikawa _wanted_ to press, as something personally important to him, but he knew it would stick with Akira at the time. So this moment of complete trust seemed appropriate. Oh god, more tears...
> 
> Thank you thank you for reading! I hope you find money on the ground, or get a compliment from a nice stranger, or get to hug someone you love, or maybe all of the above! Take care now, as always! You're awesome!


	11. If My Heart Was a House || Pluto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter? Just a few more after this one! I'll definitely be getting another one in after this too, so be prepared!

That peace was broken for Tooru close to midnight, when he woke to a wretched, throbbing pain in his knee. He struggled in the darkness, cried out as the movement caused the pain to worsen, and felt tears spring to his eyes. Sleep still held him in a half-grip, and he groped in confusion and panic across his bed, searching for the nightstand. He stopped when another body met his, and soft hands steadied his thrashing.

"What do you need, Tooru?" Whispered Akira, close to Tooru's ear.

Tooru choked back a whimper as he tried to find a comfortable position for his leg, but failed. "Drawer. Bottle. Please." He managed to speak the clipped words through clenched teeth. He'd forgotten to take his painkillers, he realized now, as Akira leaned away from him and he heard the drawer slide open. "Fuckin' kill me..." He mumbled, jaw still tense from the pain.

"Shhh," Akira hushed him gently, and passed him the bottle. "Do you need some water?" Tooru took it from him, twisted the cap off, and shook a few pills into his palm. 

Even in the dark, he was careful to count them, before dumping the excess back into the bottle and tossing it to the floor. "No," growled Tooru before throwing his head back and swallowing quick. 

_I wonder if this is what he's like on the bad days,_ Akira mused as he gently pulled Tooru back to the mattress. He tried to comfort him by rubbing his back, tracing shapes with his fingers and hoping for the best. _How many nights has he woken like this? It must be terrible._ He was relieved when Tooru's breathing began to steady, and his tense body relaxed.

"Thank you, Akira." Tooru whispered hoarsely. "You've been so good to me today. I really appreciate it." He pulled them closer together, ducking his head to Akira's chest and pressing his ear to it. "Mmm..."

"Go to sleep, Tooru." Akira urged, and closed his eyes. "I'm right here."

Autumn being what it was, the weather had turned overnight, and while ice remained in hidden pockets of shadow, the sun was making a fierce comeback and the air promised a brittle warmth to follow. Gentle light illuminated the still room, but Akira was becoming aware of waking despite his attempts stay in that blissful dream world. He could hear a clock ticking, somewhere, and the drip, drip, drip of water from a leaking gutter by the window. Still, he kept his eyes closed, trying to fall away from consciousness again, something that was normally so easy for him. He felt Tooru shift beside him, and it filled him with happiness.

He couldn't form thoughts to frame it. It felt like gentle bursts of color blossoming in his mind, painting memories of the past weeks, of every meaningful look, thoughtful conversation, and loving touch. He was dimly aware of Tooru's fingers against his cheek, and it drew his mind away from the reveries and back into the present. Tooru's hand traveled across Akira's exposed shoulder, his thumb smoothing lines across the skin that felt like electricity. Idle motions, full of adoration.

Akira knew they couldn't stay like this, but he wanted to, and he couldn't know this, but Tooru did, too. It was almost an epiphany for Tooru - somehow this idleness didn't feel like stagnation. This thought alone was enough to set his heart beating to the tune of an eager hopefulness. The world around them was not so patient. Light continued to fill the room, sharper now. Cars went up and down the road, noisy in their passing. The sound of the clock was lost, but time went on, until there was a knocking at the door. Tooru sighed, and rose carefully.

_So tired..._ Akira remained lying down, waiting for Tooru to make him get out of bed. The mattress shifted as Tooru leaned back down to tickle Akira's nose.

"Wakey wakey sleepyhead," he whispered, a smile curling on his lips.

"Mmm. Five more minutes." Turning on his side, Akira tried to hide his own smile.

"Akira, I can't get out of bed on my side. You need to move." He started to push - though not strongly - against Akira's body. "Gooosh it's like you're trying to make me stay in bed all day with you."

"So maybe I am," the smile widened on Akira's lips, "but when you sound that miserable, I guess I have no choice." Begrudgingly, Akira forced his body into motion and sat up at a slow pace, groaning to show his distaste. "Okay, I moved - I can go back to sleep again, right?"

"Nonono; you gotta get outta my bed now and eat breakfast! Silly goose." He pinched the bridge of Akira's nose lightly and giggled. "Okay? Besides, I want to see your apartment today."

Akira's eyes snapped open. "Oh. You... do?" _Why do you want to see something like that?_ "It's not much..." _Just a lot of emptiness._

"That's alright! Maybe I'm a minimalist," he winked. "Remember?"

_Oh! I do remember._ He had to laugh at that. "Oh, how could I have forgotten-" _Oh, no; I_ did _forget... I still have to do that painting._ "Ah, well. Then it will suit your tastes exactly, I think." 

While Akira worked on finishing off the large breakfast meal Tooru's mother brought them, Tooru went to the bathroom to get ready for the day. It caught Akira's attention, as he remembered wondering about the counter and its assorted contents. He tried not to stare too much, instead glancing over from time to time, curious. _You don't need to look beautiful for my apartment, you know._ He rested his chin in his hand, trying to think of a how he wanted to say this. _I know now how important his appearance is to him, but... I want him to take it easy for once. He doesn't need to impress anyone, least of all me._

"Hey, Tooru..." Tooru glanced back into the room as Akira began to speak. "I hope you know you don't have to wear yourself out just to come visit me. Give yourself a break for once. Don't be so hard on yourself." _It's a little surprising to hear these words coming out of my mouth._ He giggled suddenly. "Oh, dear. You're really rubbing off on me."

At first Tooru's expression remained blank, but it soon split with a wide smile. "Akira! I'm proud of you."

This took Akira by surprise. "Y-you are?" He brought his knees to his chest and tried to hide his face behind them, face flushing.

Tooru sat back down in his chair, obvious relief flooding his eyes, and he returned to the bedside. "You're right. We both needn't be so hard on ourselves, yeah?" He shook his head, as though in disbelief with himself. "You have me figured out, don't you?"

"Hmm," hummed Akira, thinking back to the gymnasium. "I actually thought you were kind of vain at first, when I saw your bathroom. But then I tried to ask myself, 'if I'm not lazy, then maybe he's not vain.' And after the match yesterday, when those Karasuno alumni were all gaping at you, you looked so uncomfortable and well..." Akira wasn't used to talking this much, and all at once too, but he pushed on. "Well, I guess I realized that maybe you thought all you had left was your image, and you fight so hard to distract people from your disability. The one thing you were best at, the one thing you were most proud of, was your ability as a setter. And you were robbed of that... but you have to know, that ability wasnt't your defining feature. It's not your signature look, either."

Tears were rolling down Tooru's speechless face. A trembling hand rose from his lap, reaching hesitantly for Akira. Seeing this, Akira took Tooru's hand in his own, and gave it a squeeze.

"I think the most defining part about you is your character. Because that's what touched me and everyone else the most." Akira reached forward to run his fingers through Tooru's soft hair. The other had bent over to touch his forehead to the back of Akira's hand, while quiet sobs shook his frame.

Through unsteady breaths, Tooru whispered, "I told you I could show you... how much it matters. How much... how much you matter... thank you Akira... thank you." He reached out with his other hand to pull Akira closer. "We all need validation, but I try not to think about my own troubles because... I sometimes feel like I did this to myself." He sniffled wetly, and quickly covered his nose with a hand.

Akira stretched out to the nightstand where a box of tissues sat, careful not to pull away from Tooru completely. "Here," he tucked one into Tooru's hand. "I could say the same of myself, you know. Everything about my situation is a product of my actions, or a lack thereof. It doesn't mean I deserve it - you taught me that." He let Tooru blow his nose before pulling him into a hug.

They stayed like that for a time, and Akira let Tooru work the tears out of his system before pulling away slightly to speak again. Tooru looked up with puffy eyes, but there was an appreciative smile on his face.

"Do you want to leave yet?" Akira asked gently, pushing hair from Tooru's face and tucking it behind his ear.

"Yeah, we can go now." He gave Akira's hand one last squeeze before letting go. "I'll just grab my bag, and we're set."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH forgot there was more heartfelt exchanges in this one and I cried... again...
> 
> How I ever wrote any of these chapters is a mystery indeed.
> 
> We're almost there! You've come so far; thank you very much! I'm a little sad; what can I do next? I will miss you all; hopefully I can complete another fic one day and we can read it together again. Anyway, I hope you're all doing well and good things are coming your way. Gonna put up another chapter now, so go read it when I do!


	12. Life In Technicolor || Heartbeats

They struck out just before noon, and Tooru seemed to be in high spirits. He looked like a very different person with his wavy hair mostly flat on his head, here and there a stray lock sticking out at an odd angle. Far from his usual put together look, he'd thrown on thick sweatpants, several layers of sweaters, and a sweatshirt that looked too small for him. Akira couldn't stop looking at his face, though.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," he said at last, unsure how else to broach the topic. They were square in shape, with thick frames, which struck Akira as strange. _I guess I thought you'd go for a slimmer look, and not something so... dorky._ The corners of his lips curled up at the thought.

"Oooh you like them, do you?" Tooru adjusted the frames proudly. "Yup! I used to wear contacts when I played. Besides, I'm near-sighted, and the court's only so big." His eyes sparkled. "I used to be kind of self-conscious about them, but Hajime helped me feel better about it. He's the one that picked these frames."

Akira couldn't help but laugh aloud. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was playing a joke on you."

Tooru snorted. "Well, I can see why you'd say that. He told me if I could get used to a pair like this, then maybe I could get something cooler later. But you know what? They kind of grew on me! So I never did get a new pair." Smiling wide, he stretched his arms into the air and reached for the sky.

"Is that Hajime's sweatshirt, too?" It had occurred to him that, for its size, it would have fit Iwaizumi's broader body perfectly.

"Oh!" Tooru's face went bright red. "You noticed, huh? Yeah, it's his. He left it with me to remember him by while he's in Europe."

" _Europe?_ " Eyes widening, Akira did a double take. "What is he doing there?"

"He's training, at least that's what he told me. Actually, he should be flying back in a week, so we're gonna pick him up at the airport. He keeps complaining that all the German players are too tall." A mischievous gleam entered his eyes. "But then again, he's shorter than most guys here, too."

"Huh! You're terrible," tutted Akira, though he couldn't hide his own laughing smile. "Did he grow at all, by chance?"

"Nope!" Tooru responded gleefully. "Much to his immense frustration and my intense delight."

Akira lightly cuffed the back of Tooru's head. "You _are_ awful, aren't you?" They laughed. "I know what you're thinking..."

"Oooh yes; you're just as much a trouble maker as I can be. So don't you go calling the kettle black!" Tooru pushed Akira's arm away playfully.

"Alright alright; you have me there." Putting his hands up in surrender, Akira gave Tooru another twinkling look, and they burst into more laughter. "Hey, could I come with you guys when you pick him up?"

Tooru looked surprised that he'd asked. "Are you sure? We're going to need to wake up reeeally early, you know." He quirked an eyebrow doubtfully.

"Ugh, I kind of figured... just pick me up from my apartment the day of, I guess. And I do literally mean 'pick me up', because I'm not leaving my bed on my own power."

To this, Tooru snorted again. "Alright, can do. Hey, we almost there yet?"

They took the train in silence, each turning inward to reflect on the last two days. Though he'd almost lost the thought in the conversations that had followed the still morning, Akira was brought back to those moments of intimacy, those moments between sleeping and waking, dreaming and reality, and he remembered Tooru's soft touch against his skin. He didn't know what it was about it that kept him returning to those thoughts, but they were comforting nevertheless, and he didn't try to distract himself from them.

Reaching his station broke him from the reveries, and he jolted from a doze when Tooru tapped his hand. "This is your stop, right?" He queried, poised to move as soon as the throng had cleared a little.

"Oh. Yes. Come on; I'll show you the way." He helped Tooru move through the crowd and out of the station. Few clouds shrouded the blue sky above them, looking like raw cotton stretched thin over cornflower textile. Once again, Akira was reminded of the painting. _Relax. It will come when I'm ready. I can't rush these things._

Tooru followed Akira until they'd reached a small, run-down apartment block. It was just two stories tall, and a concrete stairwell with a rusting metal railing led up to the second floor. They went to the only elevator in the building, a cramped thing with a dim light inside. Pressing the button, Akira glanced back at Tooru, who looked contemplative and hadn't spoken even since they'd left the station. Akira smiled, and turned back to the door when it opened at last.

His door wasn't far from the elevator. He drew his key from a pocket and turned it in the lock, opening the door for Tooru to enter. "Er, welcome, I guess..." he mumbled, unsure what Tooru would think of the space beyond. He followed Tooru in, and watched as he scanned the room with those sharp eyes that missed nothing.

Akira's apartment was as it had been for many months now. A mattress rested on the ground by the far wall, and the only piece of furniture there was a plastic table where he worked, a fold-up chair tucked underneath it. Carefully organized throughout the apartment, what passed for supplies sat in stacks or leaned against walls. Cardboard from food containers and cheap paint - his way of scraping by.

Anxiously, he shuffled to Tooru's side to get a look of the other's face. "I told you it wasn't much..."

Tooru nodded slowly. "No, I suppose it isn't." Worry lines creased his face, and he pursed his lips in thought. "Would you want more furniture? A couch, maybe?" He glanced up at Akira, still looking thoughtful.

Fidgeting, Akira's eyes flicked across the room, giving the question some thought. "Hmmm, I don't know. I never really thought of this as a permanent residence." He shifted his feet. "Of course... I sort of thought it wouldn't matter after a while. I didn't really count on making it past this winter."

He appeared to consider this. "Huh. Well, you take some time to give it thought and get back to me, okay?"

_Oh, don't tell me..._ "You're thinking of getting something for me, aren't you?" He put his face in his hands to cover a blush. "You really don't need to..."

"Awww, but I do!" Tooru squeezed his arm and smiled. Akira peeked out at him between his fingers. "What if you have visitors? It'd be nice to have a couch to sit on."

"Visitors," whispered Akira, the notion feeling too unreal for him to wrap his mind around it.

"Yeah, sure! And not just me, either. I come with my own chair. But Makki and Mattsun might want to come by some time, y'know?" He shook Akira gently. "Come ooon let me do this for you!"

Akira buried his face deeper his into hands and arms. "Tooruuu..." He twisted back and forth before dropping his hands at last. "Fine, but you said I could give it thought first. Then I'll get back to you."

"Fair deal," Tooru beamed. "I'm gonna hold you to your word, okay?"

It was definitely something to think about. Not that he was indecisive about what kind of couch he might want - it was the connotation that he might actually need it to accommodate visitors that made his head spin. Not long ago, he'd actually believed no one would miss him. He couldn't make the argument that he'd been alone before Tooru, though. He thought of his neighbor, the kind girl who gave generously, and checked in on him from time to time. _She might like somewhere to sit, if ever I invite her in._ He thought about Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who had both been so patient with him, completely willing to let him go at his own pace. They'd held nothing back from him, and he was grateful for their kindness. _I bet it would be nice to have them over. They're pretty fun to be around, after all._ And, of course, there was Tooru. _I'll bet he'd be far happier to sit on a comfy couch than on his stiff wheelchair._ Akira smiled to himself. _Oh, well; why not._

He went to work the next day, feeling refreshed somehow. It was raining some, but not the harsh sleet that had sent him running from the restaurant that day. He still wanted to take it easy, but just as before, Hanamaki and Mastukawa were happy to oblige him. He stayed a few hours, first working on organizing the rest of the desk in the back, then going into their pantry closet to help them do inventory on Hamamaki's request. It was something he was good at; organizing. Patterns were therapeutic. 

The day after that, he rested, sleeping in until well after midday. He still couldn't find the muse to start on the painting, but he wasn't as bothered by it as he'd expected. It didn't feel like procrastination. _I'm just waiting for the right spark of inspiration._ He painted other things for the rest of the afternoon, and he found he enjoyed it much more now that he was doing it for himself rather than for money.

On the third day, his cell phone woke him when Tooru called. Akira didn't rush to the phone, but picked up before the call ended. "Do you know what time it is..." he mumbled through a yawn.

"Oh, come on," Tooru laughed, "it's not like I woke you up at three in the morning or something."

"No, seriously," pressed Akira, "I don't know what time it is." He lay back down, placing the phone on his cheek and stretching his arms and legs.

Tooru laughed. "Sorry, just teasing! It's like... eight-thirty-ish? Something like that. The weather's so nice right now and I want to take advantage of it to take some pictures in the park." Akira heard the muffled sound of a zipper being pulled, and a few thuds as Tooru knocked the phone with something. "Oops, sorry about that. Camera strap." He paused a moment, then said, "Hey, maybe you'd like to come with me?" He invited, a smile clear in his voice.

"No, I have to work on this big blue piece someone asked me to do. They even paid me money for it; can you believe that?" Akira couldn't help but smile. Lightly teasing Tooru had become one of his favorite things to do. _Today seems like a good day for that painting... why not._

"Oh, gosh! Well that's a shame," Tooru responded smoothly, not missing a beat. "Guess I wouldn't want to take away your time from creating a masterpiece. I'm sure whomever is receiving it will be very happy with the result." Stifled laughter trickled through the phone as Tooru tried to keep his composure. Sarcastic banter could be difficult to keep up, especially when it was such a silly joke.

"Well, they better be. It's not like I'm charging them Y60000+ for it." Akira thought about the first time they'd met by the shrine, and giggled a little.

"Oh, well that's a relief. You'll bankrupt people with those kinds of prices." They both burst into laughter, unable to keep up the joke. "Alright well, seriously; don't let me interrupt your work. I need to get some work done too, and that requires two hands."

Akira curled into a ball, smiling and blushing into his free hand. "Right. That's okay."

"I'll talk to you soon, okay?" Tooru promised.

"Yeah." Akira replied. "Bye-bye."

"Later!" He chirped, and hung up. 

For an hour or so, Akira painted on the large canvas he'd selected from the larger cardboard pieces with a myriad of bright blues. He almost felt as though he were becoming lost in them. Then, a single stroke, and a flashback. Slowly, he turned to look out the window behind him, where a flawless sky stretched out from horizon to horizon.

The paintbrush shifted in his lax grip, and he looked away quickly. _More strokes. More paint. More blue..._ hadn't that color once met so much more to him, when the sky had really been the limit? When he'd felt as though his team was a part of the sky; almost could have been convinced of it. Akira's eyes now drifted to the phone, and his heart didn't feel heavy. _No, focus on the painting._ Not a cloud in sight, nothing to take away from that vision of beyond. He swore his heart was lifting right into that sky.

And now he was standing. Now, walking. Hand poised over the phone. Just one name in mind, a name he'd not thought of in a long time. _Yuutarou..._ He still had the voicemail, after all. Still had the number. Still remembered that it hadn't ended in anger.

_I'm sorry, I just can't keep this up. I just want you to know that I hope you can find happiness. Goodbye, Akira. Until we meet again, perhaps._

Trembling fingers hovered over each digit, pushed the button with care, and moved on to the next. Now it was a phone number, and all he had to do was hit the call button. Instead of feeling that overwhelming despair, his heart yearned for it. _Do it. Make the call._ It began to ring. And ring.

Warm light fell on the damp court, but wetness didn't deter the players one bit. The net still glittered with drops of melted ice, and puddles had formed in the uneven ground. Still, the ball soared back and forth, and players shouted and laughed. Then, through the gentle air and the heat of the game, a ringtone carried out, and Yuutarou Kindaichi, captain of his neighborhood volleyball team, excused himself from the match.

"Hang on; that's mine." The ball ceased motion, and the other players motioned for him to go answer it. Yuutarou crouched by his bag, rummaged past his change of warm dry clothes, and finally pulled out his cell; bright, buzzing and noisy. His eyes moved to the caller ID, and widened. Recognition and disbelief gave him pause. He felt his heart start to beat hard and fast in his chest. Without hesitation, his sweaty fingers mashed the answer call button.

" _Kunimi?!_ " He practically shouted into the receiver.

"You still have this number?" Came Akira's panicked response.

Yuutarou thought he'd have a heart attack. " _Kunimi?_ " He sputtered back in disbelief. Yuutarou couldn't believe his ears - Akira had finally returned his call.

_He remembers me!_ "Y-yes, it's me... um..."

" _Akira?_ My god, it's you; it's really _you!_ " Yuutarou half-sat, half-collapsed onto the wet bench. It was unreal, almost like a dream.

_His excitement will wear off. He'll be angry. I need to-_ "Kindaichi, I... I'm really sorry. I'm sorry this is so late..." _What do I even say? How can he forgive me?_ "I just couldn't find it in me to answer the phone anymore; I felt like I didn't know you; couldn't know you. University, friends, volleyball; all these things that you had and I didn't. It was so foreign to me." It all came out in a rush, the desire to try and make himself understood before the moment went sour.

A long, ragged breath came Yuutarou's first response. It was something that had occurred to Yuutarou long after they'd stopped speaking. Hindsight could be a cruel thing. "That... no, that makes sense. But..." He rocked gently as all his fearful thoughts and vicious worries washed over him. As the silence had stretched into years, Yuutarou had begun to fear the worse. "I thought you were... were dead..." He felt his chest tighten. "I thought I'd never hear from you again." Guiltily he thought of how he might have had the power to prevent things from taking this course. Yuutarou's voice broke unevenly as tears began to well in his eyes. "I was so, so worried..."

"Are you crying?" Akira fidgeted uncertainly, and decided to lie down on his side, letting the phone just rest on his cheek so that his hands were free to clasp each other. It was a habit he'd developed a long time ago, and it helped him stay relaxed while on the phone. _I knew I'd upset him. I scared him. I made him worry._

"No... _yes_... argh; I just- all this time, and you-" He searched for the words, and continued to inwardly scold himself. "I should be the one apologizing! I let you go. I made a mistake."

_Didn't we both have our reasons? It's... okay to take care of yourself sometimes._ "Kin- Yuutarou, I don't care about that anymore. Neither of us were in a place where we could really be the kind of friends we once were, or the kind of friends we needed." _I would have dragged you down. You would have made no difference to me at all. We were strangers._ "I forgive you."

Yuutarou began to cry harder for all the relief that washed over him; relief that Akira was okay, relief that he'd finally called back, relief that he wasn't angry with him for giving up. A few of his teammates had come over to check on him, and he waved at them, trying to motion that he was okay despite outward appearances.

"Kindaichi, what's going on? Bad news?" One of the spikers stepped forward to ask, clearly the chosen speaker for the rest of the group.

He shook his head. It was hardly bad news; more like the best news he'd ever receive in probably his whole lifetime, he felt. "N-no... it's Ak- Kunimi. Kunimi Akira; you remember I talked about him before?" He shuddered in a deep breath, trying to regain composure. "He just called me... like, for the first time in, in what feels like a lifetime, honestly." He signaled for them to give him a moment of silence, as Akira had begun to speak again.

"Hey, so um... are you busy?" _Don't think you are disturbing him. You know better. You know better._ He brought his knees up to his chest, focused on his breathing.

"Ah, well...?" Yuutarou looked up at the curious and concerned faces of his friends. Not so carefully he swiped away some of the tears and snot from his face. "No, not with anything important. Do you need to talk?" He half rose, found his knees too weak, and sat back down again.

"Please come over. I want to see you." The sky outside his window was a perfect rectangle of autumn blue. Akira stared at it, his chest fit to burst from the tension, but the color soothed his nerves. 

The invitation was music to his ears, and though Akira could not see it, Yuutarou's whole body shook with nervous excitement. "Yes! Definitely yes! What are you up to right now?"

"I'm actually painting right now. Nothing that your presence would detract from, though. Please. Come join me."

That was all the incentive Kindaichi needed. It was hard for the both of them to hang up, but Kindaichi managed it eventually. For a few minutes, he sat staring up at the sky in disbelief. Once he'd found the strength to stand, he didn't waste another moment. Making a hasty goodbye to his teammates, Kindaichi tossed his things into the bag and ran home to change. As he anxiously went through the motions, his mind raced with a thousand crowded thoughts. After all this time, how would he be able to approach this distant person, whom he'd actually allowed himself to believe was dead? Believing that had made it easier to move forward, and for that he felt immense guilt.

_“I don't care about that anymore.”_ That's what Akira had told him. And then... _“I forgive you.”_

Kindaichi struggled to see through his blurring vision, and stopped in the doorway of his house to recover himself. Despite the grief, he managed to smile. What else had Akira told him? He'd been painting; that's what. With a new resolve, Kindaichi composed himself, closed the door with a bang, and flew down the steps, determined not to appear at the apartment empty-handed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY HERE WE GO
> 
> Fun fact: I finished roughly 20k words in the span of about a month and a half, then proceeded to procrastinate for _five months_ before I finally finished, largely due to _this scene_ with Kunimi and Kindaichi. Friendships though... they get me in the heart so hard...


	13. Eyes || The Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is; the moment everyone's been waiting for: angst! Oh, wait- no, that's wrong isn't it? Well, there is some of that, but fear not; we return to the warm fuzzies faster than you can say "give me fluff!" Hope you like this chapter! Have a tissue box on hand though; you might need it.

In the apartment, sunlight slanted through the window and illuminated an artist hard at work. He'd selected a similar "canvas" to that of his original sky painting - a sizable piece of cardboard, white on one side and perfect for holding the deep blue tones he'd chosen. It wasn't as though he could afford real canvases, or even regular paper, but he'd found no trouble with the media he currently possessed. He only wished he could do more.

He wouldn't have to wait long. There came an urgent knocking on the door, and Akira stopped mid-stroke in the same moment that his heart did the same. Taking a deep breath, he washed the brush in his water can, dried the bristles, and set the canvas aside carefully. He rose from the floor, palms down and fingers spread as though he were an acrobat on the rope, balancing. It had fallen silent in the apartment again, but Akira was confident Yuutarou still stood on the other side of the door.

The distance between where he stood and the door seemed infinite. With slow strides, hands still slightly outstretched, he approached what lay beyond that door. His heart beat against his chest, like an urgent drum, hastening him onward. He could already picture Yuutarou standing across from him, and there was only this wooden door that separated them. The good thing about doors, however, was that they could be opened.

Yuutarou blinked in surprise as that barrier fell away. Staring back at him, almost afraid to move, Akira trembled where he stood, arms wrapping around his own body in an effort to become smaller than he already was. Without saying a word, Yuutarou set his bag down, took one step forward, and pulled Akira into a tight hug. There was no hesitation as Akira threw himself into the embrace, his arms curling around Yuutarou's broader frame, fingers knotting in the fabric of the light jacket. A mournful grief welled up inside of him, and he burst into tears.

It overwhelmed the both of them. Neither could speak for all the regrets that weighed heavy on their minds, each cycling between doubt and reassurance and seeking equilibrium, attempting to come to terms with their crisis before speaking to the other. Yuutarou didn't feel as though he could bring Akira close enough; the very sensation of that small body in his arms seemed too unreal, that he might actually be holding his friend again for the very first time in too, too long. He touched Akira's hair, pressed his nose against the top of his head, forced to bend but hardly minding the strain of his back. Instead he thought only of the force of that embrace, how Akira held him as if he too feared the other might just vanish into thin air.

The quiet of that morning was only broken by stammered breaths and broken sobs. Akira would have spoken had he not feared the tumult of his words; he wished there were some way to say it all at once. Knowing he could not, he simply buried his face in the warmth of Yuutarou's chest and continued to hold on. The silence wouldn't last, he knew, but for this moment that seemed to stretch on without end, he tried to find his solace, and waited for Yuutarou to speak.

When at last he did speak, his voice hoarse from crying, he did not try to pull away. "I was so, so scared..."

"I'm sorry," Akira let his head drop so that he stared at their feet.

Guilt twisted in his stomach, and quickly Yuutarou shook his head. "No, don't be. I should be the one apologizing. I'm the one that-"

"Don't you dare say you abandoned me," Akira cut him off, voice small but without tremor. "I already told you on the phone. We did what we could, and then we did what we had to. No one, least of all yourself, can tell me that you didn't at least try." Humming, Akira twisted his neck so that he head lay sideways against Yuutarou's chest, where he listened the the rhythmic beat of the other's heart. He took a deep breath, ready to continue.

Yuutarou thought he was about to self-deprecate, but he was wrong.

"It was exhausting, all those years of giving up. I used to think it was pretty pathetic of me - it's not like anything worse than myself happened in the time after Captain graduated. You know better than anyone that it was all too easy to believe the cruel words." He sighed when Yuutarou began to sway.

"You sound like... something's changed." Trying to look down and past the round top of Akira's head, Yuutarou could just see the outline of his friend's wet cheeks and damp eyes, lashes still quivering with tiny drops.

"A lot has changed." _So much; you don't only know. Or, maybe you do. In your own life, in that world I couldn't bring myself to take part in... but maybe it will be possible to re-acquaint myself with it._ "You remember how things were when we were first-years?"

Thinking back, Yuutarou's face brightened. "Oooh, like back in Aoba Johsai? How could I forget?" He gave Akira a squeeze. "Those were good times for you, I think."

"Yeah, they were. Do you know why?" Akira shifted again to look up at Yuutarou.

"Hmmm... if I had to take a guess, I'd say it was because of the senpais." He nodded in self-affirmation. "That's true, isn't it? I remember you talked about the captain sometimes."

_Does he forget anything?_ "Oh, that's right. Of course all the third years were pretty supportive. But he just put in a lot of extra effort to ensure I played at 100%, just like everybody else. Even though I tended to want to skip, and sleep, and basically just... not exert myself." He pressed his forehead against Yuutarou's chest and closed his eyes. "But he _never_ thought I was lazy."

"Of course not! Oikawa-san saw your strengths the way he saw everyone else's. Well, I mean... he recognized that everyone had their strengths. It was just a matter of figuring out what they were and how to take advantage of them."

"I don't think he really 'took advantage' of them. He showed others how to use their own strengths." A chill breeze whipped in at that moment, and Akira shivered.

"Oh! I almost forgot - I kind of... well I got something for you on the way out. Let me grab the bag; I sort of dropped it..." Reluctant to let go, he slipped carefully from the embrace but kept one hand clasped to Akira's wrist while he turned to stoop for the bag. As soon as he'd hooked the plastic handles with his fingers, he rocked back on his heels and shut the door quietly.

Akira observed him with mounting curiosity. The bag had gone completely unnoticed at their first meeting - he'd only had eyes for Yuutarou then. Now, as he pulled Yuutarou to sit on the mattress beside him, he found himself wondering what could be inside the large bag, which was both tall and wide and appeared to be a little heavy.

Once properly inside the tiny apartment, Yuutarou let his eyes cover every wall in detail. The place was tidy, if not greatly lacking in furniture, and everywhere he could see bits of cardboard taken from frozen dinners and other containers, carefully cleaned, cut, and painted. Most were small, but there drying by the window lay a larger piece of board, swathed in blue swirls. Cotton ball clouds and the silhouettes of birds told Yuutarou that this was a painting of the sky.

At this, he smiled, turning to look again at Akira's eager face. "You're a wonderful artist, given what little you have to work with. But you've always been a resourceful person."

Akira blushed. "I don't know if I'd use that word..."

"No, no; really! I'm blown away; it's amazing." Yuutarou pulled the bag into his lap and began to reach inside. "I mean, imagine what you could do with some proper art supplies..." He withdrew a package of brushes of every shape and size, and set it on the floor. Next came a scroll of what looked like thick paper. Finally, paints, and when Akira spotted the label, he felt his heart skip a beat.

"These are watercolors," he breathed, eyes locked on the paints. "I've always wanted to paint with watercolors." _I can't believe it. We don't talk for years, but the moment I offhandedly tell you about what I'm up to, you go out of your way to get me a really meaningful gift._ His vision blurred and he realized fresh tears were spilling from his eyes again, and he burst out sobbing.

"Ahhh! Not again!" Yuutarou quickly pulled Akira to his chest and hugged him tightly, rubbing his back and trying to quiet him. "Ohhh, I didn't mean to make you cry..." He sniffed, trying to fight tears of his own.

"You didn't have to..." was all Akira could manage to say.

"But- I wanted to! I mean, it's been so long... I wasn't sure if you'd be upset with me so I thought I'd get you a gift, you know. Like a peace offering?" He tried to tilt his head down to see Akira's face again, looking worried.

"You didn't need to do that, either." Akira clutched at his jacket, knotting his fingers in the fabric. "But I... really appreciate the thought. That you thought of me." _Gifts are special. Gifts are things you bring to people because you think of them... and I didn't think anyone thought of me._

This was of course untrue. His neighbor aside, Yuutarou hadn't stopped thinking about Akira ever since he'd stopped calling him. He squeezed his eyes shut, still trying not to cry again. "Of course. You're my best friend. I mean... I hope we can be best friends again. I haven't had a best friend since."

"Don't be silly," Akira chided him, trying to cheer himself up by teasing his friend, "of course we're best friends." He sat up again, but kept his hand on Yuutarou's arm in case he wanted to lean into another hug. His gaze traveled back to the blue painting, and he felt a sudden jolt of memory hit him. 

"What's the matter?" His start hadn't gone unnoticed by Yuutarou. Wordlessly, Akira rose from the mattress, and he let his eyes slide towards the closet. "You're kind of scaring me! You're not doing that on purpose, are you?"

"No," Akira told him earnestly, "I just had a thought." _There were two things I couldn't discard, after all._ He glanced back at Yuutarou to give him a reassuring look. _The first was the voicemail. I couldn't delete it because... because I couldn't pretend he didn't matter. As for the second..._ He eased towards the closet now, aware of Yuutarou's steady gaze on him, and opened it slowly. Light slanted in, illuminating a cardboard box on the floor. From his standing vantage, he could just see the edge of a white piece of fabric.

"What's this?" Yuutarou joined him, peering easily over Akira's shoulder into the box. "Oh! That's-"

"My old jersey," Akira finished for him. He ducked down and hooked it out with a finger. Then, he shook it out and held it with both hands, so that they both could see the number on the back. _13\. I couldn't bear to throw it away; there were too many good memories and happy times attached to it. I thought I could just forget about it if I hid it._ He spun away from the closet and returned to the mattress, where he folded his legs and sat down again.

"I still have mine too, y'know." Yuutarou said conversationally, hoping to break Akira from whatever trance he'd entered. "Actually, I think Yahaba-san does, too."

"Yahaba?" Akira looked up at him, puzzled. _He was the captain that replaced Oikawa; another setter._ "Are you guys in contact?"

"Oh, yeah! Sometimes we play together with my neighborhood team." He crouched in front of Akira, hands resting on his knees.

"Do you talk to anyone else from Aoba Johsai?" An idea was forming in his head.

Yuutarou gave this some thought. "Hmmm, not all the time, no. Yahaba-san and Kyoutani still talk, I think."

"They... do?" Akira gave him an incredulous look. "I didn't think they got along..."

"I don't know the details, and quite frankly, I'm happier that way." He cleared his throat and continued. "What about you?"

Smiling, Akira nodded. "Yes, actually. Apparently, Hanamaki and Matsukawa own a restaurant now; this kind of hole-in-the-wall curry place. It's pretty good, and has a nice atmosphere. I actually kind of work there... if you could call what I do 'work', that is." He ducked his head shyly. "They don't have me do much..."

"Wow! That's really incredible. How are they doing, then?" He shifted into a sitting position, leaning back and propping himself up with his long arms.

"They're doing well, as far as I can tell. Matsukawa says he wanted a change of pace, and Hanamaki decided to follow suit." Akira swallowed. _How do I talk about Tooru, though?_ "Then, there's Tooru..."

Yuutarou's mouth gaped. "Whoa, you ran into the captain? When did that happen? I haven't seen him in ages!"

"Do you, by any chance, watch the news...?" _Tooru claims he'd been some kind of story for a while, though I don't know anything about that._

Frowning, Yuutarou shook his head. "I used to keep up with sports news and all that, but once I got into university I had to focus on other things." His face creased with worry. "Did something happen?"

Akira nodded solemnly. "Well, he... he got hurt. Real bad."

"No way," voice dropping to a whisper, Yuutarou leaned forward more, his expression becoming troubled. "How?"

Akira looked down at his own hands. "I don't really know, to be perfectly honest. I don't think it's something he likes talking about. He can't play anymore, so... it was a pretty heavy blow." Memories of Tooru's pained face flashed through his mind. _It wasn't just the physical hurt. You still hold regrets, too._

Looking shaken, Yuutarou wrapped his arms around his shoulders and rocked. "That's just terrible... is he doing better though? I mean, how is he these days? You sound like you're close." An eyebrow perked.

"Oh, about that..." _Argh, of course; I called him by his first name, didn't I?_ "Yeah, he's doing a lot better. He's actually helped me a lot, especially recently." He could feel his face flushing, and he quickly brought his knees up to his chest to hide behind them.

Whatever Akira's concerns, Yuutarou wasn't picking up on them. "That's really great to hear, at least!" He smiled, looking relieved more than anything. "It's good to hear that the two of you are doing relatively well, despite everything."

_Oh, Yuutarou; you are somewhat dense, aren't you?_ He shook his head, deciding not to mind it for now. _We might be friends again but I think I'll wait a while to start sharing crushes with you._ He brushed the distracting thoughts away, remembering his earlier idea. "While we're on the topic of Oikawa, I wanted to ask you something..."

That idea was reunion. Akira couldn't think of a better way to give back to Tooru, who had given 200% even when Akira had felt he barely deserved just the 1. It felt right, somehow, bringing them both back to the people who had made that year one of the best of their lives. Maybe they hadn't made it to nationals, and maybe things had fallen apart thereafter, but the memories of the good times remained, and they were worth celebrating, if nothing else.

Yuutarou went through his contacts, starting a conversation with Yahaba and Kyoutani through emails, while Akira went to work to talk with Matsukawa and Hanamaki. They were over the moon about the idea, and offered to call Iwaizumi ahead of time so that he could be in on it, too. Akira could hardly believe it was all happening around him, and it was harder still to comprehend when he reminded himself that it was his idea. Every time he imagined it, he could picture Tooru smiling, and probably crying too. 

_This will be what I make of it, and I want to make it great._

Though the week seemed to drag on for the impatient Akira, it at last came around to the morning Iwaizumi's flight came in, and just as Tooru had warned him, it was an early morning at that.

Akira was a little startled to learn that Matsukawa and Hanamaki owned a wheelchair accessible van, but he'd begun to see that they were full of surprises and had unlimited kindness to offer. From supplying him with a job to pooling their earnings just so they could take Tooru places on road trips, Mattsun and Makki never ceased to amaze Akira. They were friends after all, so it seemed.

Today would be a long trip to the airport in Tokyo; an hour and a half long drive just to get to the airport itself, and that was ignoring possible traffic and other complications. Then there was the fact that Hajime's flight came in so early, around 8PM JST, meaning they'd have to wake up far earlier than that to be in time to pick him up. For Akira, there wasn't a worse combination than an early wake up followed by a long trip on the road, but Tooru had insisted he could probably sleep on the way. Despite his body protesting every moment of it, Akira managed to drag himself into the van and collapsed on the seat, where he only just remembered to click in the seat belt before passing right out again.

When the van pulled into the parking lot, Tooru gently shook Akira awake, whispering into his ear warm words of greeting. Akira blinked sleepily, adjusting his position and yawning. A pale morning light streamed in through the windows, and the van rocked as Matsukawa stepped out and opened the panel door with the ramp for Tooru. Hanamaki helped Tooru come down, while Matsukawa took Akira's hand as he stumbled out the other side, still feeling groggy.

The airport stood before them. Engines roared above as a plane took off into the great blue beyond, white metal skin gleaming in the new day. Even at this hour, the place was busy, and Akira stayed between Hanamaki and Tooru to avoid the worst of the crowded feeling. Following Hanamaki's directions, they arrived at the place, somewhere close to the luggage carousel. The first passengers to disembark appeared to be tourists, mostly Europeans, but then again this was a flight direct from Holland.

"He'll be easy to spot, eh?" Matsukawa commented, earning a chuckle from Hanamaki.

"Only if we see him past all of these giants!" Returned Hanamaki, and the two of them continued to giggle.

Tooru rolled his eyes but smiled nevertheless. He was obviously too excited to make any retorts - his chair rocked back and forth, his fingers drummed the arms, and his eyes were wide in anticipation. Somehow, Akira felt nervous. He thought he should be happy for Tooru, but instead a dread was stealing over him. He tried not to watch the arriving passengers too carefully.

There was a sudden shout, and Tooru was shooting forward. Akira's eyes followed. Directly in Tooru's path stood Iwaizumi, looking exhausted, but his expression changed to elation when he saw Tooru's rapid approach. Next thing Akira knew, he'd launched himself out of the wheelchair, forcing Iwaizumi to yell and lunge forward himself to catch Tooru before he seriously hurt himself. Akira felt that twinge from before, and looked away.

"Hajime! You're back! You're home!" Tooru buried his face in the crook of his neck, humming. "I missed you so much..."

Iwaizumi adjusted his hold on the other, so that he didn't slip accidentally. "I come home and everyone's still taller than me," he growled, but he was obviously in a good mood and only teasing. When Tooru started to laugh at him, he smacked the back of his head. "I can always go right back..."

"You wouldn't!" Tooru pulled away to look at Iwaizumi's face, and pouted at him. "Because, admit it Iwa-chan, you missed me too." Both of their faces broke into wide smiles.

_They're going to kiss. Why did I never think that they might be together?_ Akira wanted to vanish into the crowd. He let strangers walk between him and the others, feeling increasingly alienated. They've known each other since forever. Of course they'd be in love. It was as though the scene was growing farther and farther away from him, as if actual space was springing up and extending the distance. He felt cold.

"Oi, lovebirds; let's get on over to the carousel already to get Iwaizumi-san's luggage! Do we really wanna be in the airport forever?" Hanamaki called out irritably, looking anxious to get moving.

"You just want to get back in the van so you can sleep this time around." Matsukawa would be the one to drive on the return journey, and had slept most of the way to the airport. Hanamaki had been the only one not sleeping in that time.

"Damn right I do!" He wasted no time in waiting for a response and started off in the direction of the luggage carousel.

Tooru and Iwaizumi watched him go, then turned back to each other again. "Guess you should probably put me down, eh?" Tooru said sheepishly.

"Obviously. You're really heavy, you know that?" Iwaizumi set him back down into the chair, and despite his gruff words he was careful not to hurt Tooru in the process. "By the way, is that Kunimi over there?"

Tooru's heart skipped, and he flipped around in his chair to look. Akira hadn't moved off with Hanamaki and Matsukawa, but he hadn't come any closer, either. He simply stared down at his feet, swaying, as if he wasn't really there.

Biting his lip, Tooru addressed Iwaizumi in a quieter voice. "Um... you go ahead. I'll let him know what we're up to." Iwaizumi nodded, and Tooru wheeled off towards Akira's disconsolate figure. Tooru started in inwardly panic, easily picking up on Akira's likely train of thought.

"Hey, Akira!" He reached the other and slowed. Akira almost turned away, but Tooru caught his hand and turned him back. "Hey, what's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter. We should join the others." His body tried to pull in that direction, but Tooru held on fast. "Tooru..."

"I can tell something's wrong. You can't lie to me." His thoughts raced. He could see it in Akira's body language, in the fear in his eyes, the return of uncertainty and remorse. He took Akira's other hand softly, running his thumb over the cold skin.

"It's nothing important." Akira tried to look anywhere but at Tooru, but knew that even this was a dead giveaway to someone as sharp as he. _He'll see right through that. Why bother?_ Finally giving up on fidgeting, he instead went back to staring at the floor.

Tooru mustered up his courage. He knew where this was all going."Yes, it is. It matters." He exhaled sharply as his suspicions were confirmed. "So tell me you're upset."

Akira let out a short, pained sigh. "Okay. I'm upset." _But you won't leave it at that._ He felt Tooru's hand cup his face, and their eyes met. It was that warm brown gaze that could take you apart and reassemble you in every way imaginable. He'd once thought that would be frightening. But it was the putting back together part that made it all worth the coming apart. _Because you put in 200%._

The next words to leave Tooru's lips caught Akira by surprise. "You're jealous," he curled his fingers through Akira's hair, and couldn't help but smile at his shock. "Look, that back there? That's a lifetime of knowing a person completely. That's what Hajime and I are." Akira shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking ever more distraught. "Hey, look at me, Akira." He waited for Akira to finally look back at him again, and continued. "Alright, that's what we have, right? But that's it. Hajime's my best friend. No one's ever gonna share what we've shared together. That's not the point."

"Where is this going?" _I don't really feel reassured. But... hasn't he always surprised me?_

"What I'm trying to say is, that's one thing. But you're something else. And what we have; that's something else, and it's equally important to me." He pulled at Akira's hand, wishing they could be closer, but it was awkward with him sitting and the other standing. Though frustrated, he pushed on. "When I'm with you, it's like - that's enough. It's just enough to be with you. It's like, for the first time in my life, I don't feel like I have to be _doing_ something to be content."

_That's funny. When I'm with you, I feel like it's okay for me to do things._

"Like when we're just... lying down together. And you're sleeping, but I'm not. It's okay! Like, actually perfectly okay. And I'm just so happy, just to be there and doing nothing at all. I don't think I can press the importance of that enough." His grip was tighter now, pulling harder. Akira sank down to embrace the other, and Tooru burst into tears.

"Tooru... you make me feel like I can actually do things on my own. I can go places, call people, even work." He thought about how he'd come to see Tooru all on his own. He thought about the phone call to Yuutarou. He thought about accepting the offer for work. None of those things would have happened before he'd met Tooru. _Yes, they're different, but somehow it's still the same, too._ "So I think I can understand what you mean, even if it's the opposite."

The soft fabric of Akira's sweater felt satisfying in Tooru's grasp, but more so was the press of their bodies. Even Akira's cold fingers on his neck. He tried to blink away his tears enough to see and speak again. "Akira... what we have, it's not the same thing as what Hajime and I have." Akira shifted a little, but didn't move away. "Even though we knew each other for a long time, and I care very much about him; I'd even say that I love him, but even then... it's not the same way that I feel about you."

_Come on. Say it. Make these butterflies disappear._

But he didn't say it. Just as before, he wanted to show it. So, very carefully, he pulled Akira's face away from his shoulder, cupped the cheeks gently in his hands, and ever so tenderly, he kissed him. Just once. And when they pulled apart, Akira looked into Tooru's eyes and he didn't need to be told to know what just that one simple kiss meant. 

Suddenly though, Akira remembered they were in the airport. In a large crowd. Vaguely in proximity to people they knew. And he became very embarrassed. 

"Ahhhhh..." He covered his face, fell into Tooru's chest and stifled a kind of squeal.

"Oh! Oh, shoot; I'm sorry! I forgot you're kind of shy, aren't you?" Tooru panicked, resorting to just awkwardly patting Akira's back. "Er, I'm sorry! I just sort of- I mean I wasn't really thinking about it, it just kind of..."

"I love you too," Akira whispered, and held Tooru tighter. "I felt like everyone was watching..."

"No one's watching us," Tooru kissed the top of Akira's head. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't cry NEARLY as much as I thought I was going to while editing this chapter, so that's a good thing. I much be pretty tired. Well, that sure was a chapter, eh? Definitely another favorite of mine for sure. On to the next! One more after this!
> 
> I hope you've been enjoying everything so far and that you'll love the last chapter too. Thank you to all my readers; you've made posting this so rewarding. Have a good one! I'll be posting the last chapter a little later today, so look out for that!


	14. The Call || Woodwork

The ride home was just as long, so Akira opted to sleep through it again, looking perfectly content despite the jostling of the car as it sped over bumps and uneven patches in the road. Hamamaki, too, was passed out in the passenger seat, though his sleep was out of exhaustion rather than comfort. Iwaizumi and Tooru sat together, quietly holding hands, both tired from their respective journeys.

Iwaizumi had become increasingly curious about Akira's presence, however, and at last he asked, "So what's the deal with Kunimi? I know you said you'd reconnected recently, but... do I sense something going on, or...?"

Startled, Tooru gave him an abashed look. "You're hardly back an hour and you're already picking apart my life? The nerve," he ducked his face down to hide his flushed cheeks despite his teasing tone.

"Hey, I just want to be clear on the details since your texts can be a little confusing." He leaned down to try and look at Tooru's face, smiling, though tiredness clearly showed in his features.

"Alright; I'll come clean. I'm in love," he did his best to say it without stammering, but honesty was still something he was trying to work on and it could make the more personal confessions difficult.

Leaning back, Iwaizumi puffed out a breath. "Huh, just like that then?"

"Do you want me to confess in another way, you big jerk?" Tooru reached up to pinch Iwaizumi's ear, who flinched and knocked his head against the window pane. "Oh! Sorry."

Iwaizumi glared at the glass as though personally offended by it. "Nah, it's okay. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't tease you like that. So you really like this guy, do you?" He nodded to where Akira continued to sleep on, completely unaware of his surroundings.

"I think 'like' is putting it mildly," mumbled Tooru, "but I think trying to explain it in words would take too long, so. I guess you'll just have to let your observational skills do all the work." He sighed, and leaned against Iwaizumi's shoulder. "But I haven't been this happy in a really, really long time."

"Yeah," Iwaizumi whispered, "I know."

///|||\\\\\

It was the day of the reunion, but Tooru didn't know that. He got a call from Matsukawa, insisting he come by the curry place to celebrate Hajime's return from Europe. "You just want my money," Tooru sighed teasingly, as though he didn't fully intend to show up and buy some food anyway.

"Nope, not this time. On the house! Kunimi's working today so you'll see him when you get here." Static and shuffling sounds, accompanied by distant whines of complaint, told Tooru that Hanamaki had just commandeered the phone.

"We gave Iwaizumi-san the van so he could pick you up. Just call him and tell him when you're ready to go, alright?" The two of them chuckled into the phone before hanging up.

Laughing quietly to himself, Tooru dialed Hajime quickly, thoughts already on the hot food he was looking forward to in the cold weather that had blown in. Not a single leaf could be found on a tree or bush anywhere, and it wouldn't be long now before winter moved in and the snow never melted until spring's arrival in the next year. Hajime picked up quickly, agreeing to be at the house soon with the van.

As they drove together, Tooru filled the silence with excited chatter, happy to be with his best friend again. "Y'know, this van's not a rental. They _bought_ this thing with their own money! And the doors; you'll see them when we get there. And a ramp... a real ramp, not a board like they had when you were last here."

"No kidding? They did all of that for you? And so quickly, too; I don't think I was gone that long." Hajime glanced back at Tooru, smiling. "They're really something else, huh? Good guys; good people."

"Oh, you should have been there. I didn't cry at all, obviously." His smirk betrayed him, but he knew that even if Hajime couldn't see his face that he'd know the truth. 

"Well, obviously. You've never been an emotional guy, after all; oh no." Hajime's voice was so sincere, Tooru momentarily forgot he was only joking.

"Hey; so mean, Iwa-chan! I'm a sensitive guy, you know!" He was brought back to reality by Hajime's chuckling. "Oi! You were messing with me! That's even meaner!"

"Relax, Tooru; we're pulling into the parking lot now. Or do you wanna look like a fool in front of Hanamaki and Matsukawa?"

The van door opened on Hajime's command, and Tooru rolled down and out onto the icy concrete, avoiding frozen puddles as he swiveled around the side of the van. He let Hajime push him up the ramp in case it was too slippery, and the two of them walked up to the doors.

"Oh, a button." Hajime noted the wide, low-placed panel with the wheelchair symbol printed in blue on the metal. He shrugged and pushed it, and the doors slowly opened. "The boys have been busy, really."

"See? Now I don't need anyone to hold the door for me." Tooru wheeled in, turning away from Hajime to look up at the bar. His hand clutched the brakes suddenly.

Someone very familiar was sitting at the bar, turning now away from his conversation with Hanamaki. His hair was dark and cropped, somewhat throwing off his memory, and yet...

"Tooru!" He heard Akira call out from behind the counter, and the other hurried out the little side panel door to greet him.

The familiar stranger's eyes lit up, and he half-rose from his seat, an eagerness about his posture that further served to fire up Tooru's loose memories.

"Captain! I-it's you!" Oikawa's thoughts clicked - it was Kindaichi. He'd gotten a haircut, and clearly grown a lot taller, but there was no mistaking that slanted face and the emotive tone in his voice.

Arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, and Akira pressed his warm nose into Tooru's cold cheek. "Ack, you're the cold one today," but he didn't pull away.

Kindaichi was standing with legs apart, poised but clearly uncertain about what he should be doing. Hanamaki and Matsukawa leaned out over the counter, both grinning from ear to ear. Hajime crouched beside his wheelchair and put a hand on Tooru's arm. From their left, two more figures appeared, and this time Tooru needed no introduction.

"Hey, Oikawa-san!" Yahaba called out, smiling as he and Kyoutani came to a stop. "Long time no see, that's for sure!" They looked well; older, taller, but still unmistakable. Neither of them had changed their hair much - Yahaba looking immaculate, and Kyoutani still favoring those strange black stripes - and had Oikawa not been so shocked, he might have been rather amused by this.

"Kindaichi...? Yahaba, Kyoutani... what..." Then there was also Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Kunimi, and... "Hey... this is..." Emotions overwhelmed him as he began to piece together what was happening. All the regulars, appearing before his very eyes, coming out of the woodwork.

"Watari; there you are! You missed the arrival." A little farther back to the left of the counter, Watari stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking embarrassed but smiling earnestly. He hurried over to stand by Iwaizumi, who had straightened up again. For all their teasing about his height, he easily stood above the little libero.

Tears streamed down Tooru's face, but he smiled and couldn't stop, hands raised and trembling, reaching but unsure what they were seeking. He squeezed his eyes shut, counted to ten, opened them again. The team laughed together.

"You surprised?" Hajime prompted.

"You! You knew?" Tooru's eyes flew up to the other, shocked. "But- I called you!"

"And our boys here called me first, about a week and a half ago, before I left Europe." He gestured to Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who waved back. Akira buried his face in Tooru's neck, nodding in affirmation.

"But it was Kunimi's idea for us to get together," Yahaba added. "He had Kindaichi call me, said that he and Kunimi were in contact again and that Kunimi had met you somewhere along the way... so we just thought it was about time we all came back together, you know?" He nudged Kyoutani, who looked a little uncomfortable about being there, but not altogether displeased either.

Kindaichi was shaking and crying a lot now. Finally, he couldn't hold it in anymore. "Captain! Thank you for everything!" He half-shouted, half-wailed. "You... it's because of you that we're all here right now! We can all thank you for that! But, also... I want to thank you personally." He hurriedly wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his jacket, wheezed in some unsteady breaths, and continued. "I want to thank you for saving Akira... you... you brought him back to me, okay? I didn't think I'd ever see him again, b-but you... you brought him happiness! Thank you, captain! Thank you!"

Akira stepped away from Tooru to comfort his friend, while Tooru just stared in shock, unable to form a reply. He felt Hajime's hand on the back of his neck, and the stress fell way. A deep breath and a small shake later, and Tooru felt as though, for the first time in that season, that it was all going to be okay.

"Hey, is this a restaurant or what?" Matsukawa waved a ladle around to get everyone's attention.

"You guys just gonna loiter or are we gonna have a feast?" Hanamaki picked up, banging a pot lid on Matsukawa's ladle.

"Let's eat!" They both said in unison, and the team crowded around the counter with enthusiasm.

Akira sat between Tooru and Yuutarou, feeling warm from head to toe. He looked to his left, where Yuutarou was digging into his food with relish, eyes still red and wet-looking from crying. And just like that, tears were falling down Akira's cheeks again, as freshly as they had when Yuutarou arrived at his door just a little over a week ago. 

"Akira! What's wrong?" Yuutarou quickly swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin, turning worriedly to his friend.

"No, it's just... thank you so much for coming." Akira gently brushed away a few tears, blinking to clear his eyes, but they didn't stop coming.

"What? I should be thanking you for calling." Unsure of how to react, Yuutarou just patted Akira's back carefully.

"You're a really good friend. I thought... maybe I was too late, when I called you."

Yuutarou stared at him, mouth partly open. He shook his head, and took Akira's hand somewhat clumsily. "You are my best friend. Always have been. And I... I failed you. I shouldn't have stopped calling, I should have sought you out, I-I should have done something! But I didn't, and what you were going through; it was never your fault. Between those times where I-" He squeezed Akira's hand, and looked away. "-where I thought the worst... I hoped that maybe you'd call back someday."

It was Akira's time to stare. He started to cry harder, leaning into Yuutarou's shoulder. "I love you so much... you really are amazing, wonderful, incredible..." He gripped his friend's jacket with his free hand.

Yuutarou looked over Akira's bent form at Tooru, who was watching them both with a worried expression. Smiling uncertainly, he angled his head down to try and see Akira's face. "I, uh... I wanted to say that to you back at your place, but I thought it might be weird. I love you too, Akira. Oh, gosh; please stop crying..."

"It's been... so long... since I really cried." Akira managed to say in a stuttered whisper. "But, before you take that the wrong way, I want to tell you - it's a good thing." He managed a small laugh. "I'm... happy."

Yuutarou sighed in relief, and smiled more easily now. "I'm glad you're happy. And, well, you can cry if you want, but please stop crying soon! My heart can't take it!"

Akira laughed again, a little louder, a little more. He straightened in his seat. "I want to tell you something else... you've always been so good with my secrets." Akira watched Yuutarou's face adjust and become serious.

"Of course! No matter what, I'm going to respect you." His face drew closer, and his eyes darted around in an exaggerated way. "So, what's the deal?"

"Well..." _Come on. Fast, like a band aid._ "Um, Tooru and I..." _Oh god. How do I do this? 'Oh, by the way Yuutarou, I'm gay.' It doesn't sound right, just saying it like that. But if I'm not direct, he might not-_

"I knew," Yuutarou's soft response almost stopped Akira's brain from working.

"Y-you knew? But... how? For how long?"

"Well, it's definitely not something I would notice about anyone else. A guy could kiss a guy in front of my face and I might still think they were just friends. Okay, maybe not; that's a little self-deprecating I guess. But... I started to get the feeling after a while, because of what you'd talk about." Yuutarou scratched the back of his head nervously. "Well you see, when I'd talk about girls you'd sort of zone out or look sleepy. Which, okay; maybe you just weren't interested in the same girls. But you'd never talk about girls at all. You'd talk about boys. And, okay, all of our teammates are boys, so maybe that was why..." He shifted in his seat, poked at his rice with a chopstick, and continued. "You never really thought about anything in much detail, or anyway didn't express it to me. So when you started talking about their hands, well... I wondered. And I realized how closely you paid attention to our teammates in a way that I didn't. It wasn't reverence; it was a sort of soft admiration. Like you wanted to hold those hands." He put his face in his free hand, sighing. "I-I'm kind of running on, aren't I?"

He braved a look through his fingers at Akira, and saw that he was smiling. Crying, too, but Yuutarou could finally see that these tears were not sad ones. They were cleansing, a flushing out of all the bad things that had built up in Akira over the years that he'd found himself unable to cry.

"I'm gonna say it again; you can cry, really, but please please stop crying! Does that even make sense?" Yuutarou pulled Akira into a hug, relieved when he heard Akira's laugh ringing out clear as a bell over the sounds of bustle from the rest.

"Kunimi! Mind if we have your attention for a bit?" Hanamaki was leaning so far over the bar, he was practically dripping down the other side of it. The two friends looked up to see Matsukawa holding Hanamaki's legs, face flushed from the effort of it.

"Er..." Akira giggled at the sheer silliness of it. "Only if you stop doing whatever that is."

"Yeah, this might possibly have been a bad idea. Reel me in, baby!" Hanamaki was ungracefully pulled back, causing the both of them to collapse somewhere behind the counter. A few of those at bar stood to peer over it curiously, but very quickly the two popped up again, smiling and dusting off their aprons as if they'd done it all intentionally.

Tooru leaned over on Akira's left, pressing his face into Akira's hair and humming. "Feeling better now?"

He did feel better. Lighter, somehow. Like the color blue. Like the sky on a perfect autumn day. Akira gently pushed Tooru back.

"I have something to show you."

The entire team was paying attention now as Akira got up from his chair and hurried back behind the counter to fetch his bag, where one sheet of cardboard and a white scroll of thick paper stuck up through the half-closed zipper. He reappeared out front, stopped by Tooru's chair, and pulled out the first.

"Well, you payed me for this one, so it's finished now." He handed over the cardboard painting. Bright blue swirls of paint spun across the canvas from edge to edge, and here and there a white puff of cloud or the black silhouette of a bird in flight broke up the continuity of the piece.

There was a chorus of approval and wonder from the watching team, and Tooru had to fight the urge to start crying again. "Hey, what did you mean 'for this one' like there's more...?" He eyed the other scroll curiously. He handed the cardboard off to Iwaizumi, so he could pass it around to the others.

The scroll came out carefully, Akira not saying a word, and the team sensed the importance of this last piece and quieted. Tooru felt his heart speed up. When the painting was unfurled, it was unlike anything he'd ever seen Akira do before. A pale blue washed over the thick paper. There were no clear brushstrokes, every color flowing from one to the next without seam, stopping only at the edges, but seemingly eager to overflow. 

A perfect autumn sky. And that about summed it all up for the two of them. That beautiful blue expanse above a fickle and untrustworthy season, where things were changing and every moment was just that; a moment. But when things are changing, anything is possible, and even moments can be captured with the click of a shutter or the stroke of a brush. That was enough for both of them, at least, and it would be for many years to come.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note
> 
> So! It's finally done... thank you to everyone who has come this far! I hope this story has left an impression on you, brought you some kind of solace or happiness, or at the very least, has left you feeling happy and contented. _Autumn Wanderer_ has been an important story for my brother and I, from the themes and messages within to the actual process of creating it. So we hope that, in sharing it, it may reach others in some profound way as well.
> 
> I consider myself to be a writer deep in my heart and soul. I've written tens of thousands of words over the years, spread among dozens of stories, the brain children of my and my brother's imagination. But I can also be overzealous, and often times I exhaust myself too quickly and I end up letting my projects go untouched for years after I began them. I was determined to make sure _Autumn Wanderer_ did not meet that same fate. So, it is with great pride that I say it is the very first work of writing that I have every completed. I couldn't be happier that, of all my projects, this is the one I get to present to the world. Admittedly, it took me roughly six months to finish the writing portion, despite having written nearly half within the span of about a month and a half. Seems I still struggle with procrastination... though, in my defense, some of the more emotional scenes were incredibly difficult to write, as they struck some deep chords within me and it sometimes left me physically unable to continue writing. But I digress...
> 
> I have dedicated _Autumn Wanderer_ to my brother because it has brought him much comfort and is very special to him. Kunimi Akira's character is closely based on him, actually, because for the purposes of the story they had much in common and I wanted to portray his character right. There are a lot of things not explicitly stated in the story, but to clarify a few points, Kunimi suffers from fibromyalgia, which is what contributes to his constant tiredness and exhaustion. It was never laziness. This is a condition my brother shares, so once again I used him as a resource and reference when writing Kunimi's character.
> 
> Oikawa's character inspiration is a little more complicated. I used both myself and my brother as a reference for his various traits and mannerisms. It's not as obvious in Autumn Wanderer, so you can consider it more like an undercurrent that helped shape some of the things he did and said in the story. Additionally, I've written numerous short pieces on some of the events that predate the events of AW. I may eventually share it, either in the fragments I've written them in or in an organized story, like AW. For the time being, I'm calling the collection "Winter Solitude", as it is also seasonally themed. Speaking of names and themes, I chose "Autumn Wanderer" mainly because it sounded nice. The original seasonally themed story was called _Summer Boy_ , so I thought it would fit the naming pattern.
> 
> As for the other characters - I drew inspiration for them from numerous sources. Most notably, Iwaizumi's character is very loosely based on Don Eppes from the crime drama _Numb3rs_ (which, by the way, is an amazing show and can be found on Netflix). He kind of made me think of what Iwaizumi might be like after maturing more. Again, since Iwaizumi wasn't exactly a focus, it more dictated his words and actions in a more passive way. I expand a lot more on him in "Winter Solitude", however, where he and Oikawa are a main focus. Moving on, Matsukawa and Hanamaki are kind of just my take on their characters. They're both very fun-loving, and mischievous if their teasing of Oikawa is any indication, but I wanted to make sure they weren't clones of one another. Matsukawa is a little more reserved, while Hanamaki is pretty energetic. The other characters - Kageyama, Hinata, and Kindaichi - I tried to keep fairly in-character and in line with canon. Obviously, they've grown and matured a lot, but I did my best to keep the core of their character intact.
> 
> I'd also like to talk a little about the playlist - I don't know if any of you actually gave it a listen, but it was a fundamental part of writing this story. Before we even began going beyond the pitch, we picked 25 songs we felt best captured the mood and tone we were aiming for. 12 melancholic songs, and 12 hopeful songs. "Nothing Left to Say/Rocks" was the perfect transition between the two. The playlist isn't just great to listen to while reading, too; I highly recommend it for just relaxing on slow days when you need a bit of a pick up.
> 
> Well, that's about everything! Thank you for staying with me this far, and for all the kudos and comments. You're the best! Please take care of yourselves, and remember that you are loved. Cheers!
> 
> \- Darkfyyre


End file.
